Before Me
by MadEyes
Summary: [AU] When all hope was thought to be lost. When the wizarding world was all but decimated and the outcome of the war, either for good or evil, would yield naught but pain. Fate gave one last twist, giving the world another chance.
1. Resilient Hope

_**General Disclaimer:**_ Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series are the property of J.K. Rowling, and various publishers: including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by the writing of this story.

_**A/N:**_ Greetings everyone! Welcome to my new project: _**Before Me**_. Ever since I read one of the stories of this gender I've wanted to write one myself, and indeed, an idea was formed and consolidated without much trouble. It _is_ true that this story will still follow along the roads of many fictional tales written by fellow fans, but I hope that the amount of differences, twists and branching lanes are enough to make this worth reading.

Still, for my peace of mind a few things should be made clear to all of you before you venture in and start reading:

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**(1st)** You should all be aware that this is an _Alternate Universe_ [AU of the _Harry Potter_ series. And I say this knowing full well that fan fiction is, in and of it self, an Alternate Universe created by fans when we experiment with changing any number of things in the original story. The fact still remains that even if I will be using the same characters and many cannon events, the divergence in the story line is so great that by the time it is finished it would be difficult not to refer to it as anything but a distorted image of the _Harry Potter_ world.

**(2nd)** This story can be categorized with many that have been written before it as a _Time Travel_ fic. You could say that it is a _Marauders Era_ fic, but since I won't be focusing as much on them, I hesitate to actually name it as such. Still, for reference, if nothing else, you should know that this story will be set in the year 1977, beginning on the summer before Lily Evans and James Potter's seventh year at Hogwarts.

**(3rd)** And most definitely last, I will give this one warning and say that this story will contain _Spoilers_ for Books one through six of the _Harry Potter_ series, even if the events of the sixth book have been warped to suit my own twisted whims.

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I hope you enjoy this, the first chapter of the story. Please tell me what you think of it and leave a review if it tickles your fancy, eh?_

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Chapter One  
**Resilient Hope **

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Sometimes it is true what they say; it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Yet today that same thought only brings despair and anguish to the hearts of most of the wizards and witches in the world. 

Today, on the summer of 1997 after one month of relentless attacks, loss is the most common emotion felt; such was the state of affairs. Be it the loss of a loved one; of a friend, the loss of your family; of a brother or sister, a mother or father, a son or daughter, or most important of all, the loss of hope. For it is always the aspiration that things can get better, that maybe there is still the possibility that your sons and daughters or their sons and daughters may have a peaceful future; a future where light shines unhindered by darkness, unimpaired by pain and suffering, that helps us go on, in whatever venture. The loss of that hope, the loss of those expectations of a better tomorrow can bring civilizations to its knees and worlds to their ruin. And at this very moment that hope was fading and despair embracing them, choking them.

The wizarding world was already bending; one small push and it would _break_.

So fast was the darkness spreading that it was overwhelming, and wizards and witches were starting to think that it was better to stop caring or feeling at all. Then, maybe, the amount and acuteness of the constant loss could not break their spirits or hollow their souls.

Yet today, on the twenty-seventh of July, the quintessence of that darkness, the personification of their pain, and the bodily depiction of the despair that threatened to engulf them, stood regally, dismissively watching the fallen bodies of his allies and enemies through hate filled crimson eyes, his black robes swirling ominously around him. In his mind he had won, in his mind his only obstacle was on his knees, not more then fifty feet away, waiting for the deliverance that only he could offer. And so he observed as the last remaining sliver of hope amongst wizard-kind stood there alone and unaided, facing his eminent demise at the side of his wounded friend. Lord Voldemort made one more mistake; he thought that it was all finished, that his success was _certain_…

What he failed to understand was that while hope still remained, however slight, however insignificant: his victory could not be accomplished,_ certainty_ did not exist.

And because of that, Harry James Potter stood unsteadily up from his kneeling position, finally looking up from his best friend's wounded form, tears in his bright emerald green eyes and a promise of vengeance on his lips. Sorrow and determination mingled together in a symphony of retribution. He swept his gaze around what had become a battleground, a massacre on what once used to be Hogwarts grounds. He looked with pity at his enemies, with sympathy at his allies and with love at his friends, both wounded and lifeless scattered across the once green fields that were now tinted with death.

But not a moment later, his grief was pushed back and his heart covered with an almost impenetrable barrier. For his heart was the only one that carried any hope, and thus needed to be protected; even when the wounds of loss where too big and too deep for most to bare, he did and he kept going, knowing that while he lived there was hope, if not for him then for the future, for the next generation. He straightened and gripped his wand tighter, locating the cause of so much pain, so much death. The opus of his heart and the composition of his destiny played together as equals faced each other, as a prophesized clash of opposites was about to be initiated.

And while they drew nearer, almost in calm reverence, memories of how it came to this flashed across his minds eye…

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A year he had trained with the best, to be the best. Long hours they had prepared him to fight and to win. But at the end of his sixth year when everyone thought that Voldemort was not going to show his hand, disaster stroke. The Hogwarts Express was attacked at its most vulnerable, just after departing the school, leaving the second most secure place in England unprotected, alone and with no one to watch as its walls fell. Not many survived and those who did found the ancient school overtaken. It was an excruciating blow to see a millennia's worth of hope and happiness destroyed.

But Harry knew that not all was lost, and when he saw that nothing more could be done for the Express, he led the few that remained to the school. Dumbledore was felled by a force of one hundred Death Eaters. However, only half survived the Headmasters wrath before his school was conquered. At that moment all struggle stopped as both sides saw the moral pillar of the wizarding world collapse. Sorrow and instinct led Harry to interrupt the other Death Eaters as they tried to perform the ritual to take control of the castle from the dead Headmaster.

A dozen voices chanting what would have been the forceful subtraction and subjugation of the spirit of Hogwarts filled the air that night as the small group that Harry led took on the others. It was horrific to behold as the magic of the school fought valiantly to defend itself. And it succeeded; for that at least Harry was glad. Hogwarts did not surrender itself to their hands and as the magic of the ritual failed, Hogwarts lashed out against those who thought to harm her, decimating them. However, he was caught in the middle of the backlash when the ceremony was disrupted and at that moment Hogwarts recognized him as one of her own, and she threw herself at him before the rock that was her shell crumbled and the castle fell; triumphant at the thought that she could not be used for their immoral purposes.

Harry just remembered how his heart swelled because of Hogwarts' sentient presence within him, letting him know that she loved him and that she would always be his home whenever she was rebuilt.

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It had been a month since that day and he displayed the marks that Hogwarts gave him after her own clash with the Death Eaters with pride. His skin now posed as a pale canvas for numerous runes of all sizes that looked as if they where splashed on the left side of his body, many taking the shape of Celtic knots and unusual crests. The runes covered his left arm completely and stretched through his left shoulder toward the base of his neck, and enclosed his whole left flank until it reached his pectoral muscles, along with the left side of his left leg, some runes a bit darker then his skin, others pitch black in color. His eyes, before veiled by thick spectacles, now shone brightly, unhindered and with the knowledge and optimism that he could one day re-establish the school, for her essence resided within him. It was the hope in his eyes that made all who beheld it redouble their efforts and fight with their hearts. His waist length long hair was ordered into a thick braid completely changed from its pitch black to a stark white color, making an unholy sight when combined with the fires that burned in his emerald eyes; fires that demanded redemption from this world of pain and loss.

The sight of those green eyes gave Voldemort pause, since this was the first time that he had seen the young wizard in more then a year; Harry Potter was almost unrecognizable and palpably more powerful. After Hogwarts had fallen he had searched for the boy and in his search for the savior, the Ministry had buckled and fall, destroyed by the iron grip that the years of corruption had allowed. And while the youth was preparing for what he knew would come, Voldemort did not relent.

Grimmauld Place was next, found after its secret keeper was no longer alive. Harry ran and went from place to place, searching for help, looking for allies, assembling the force that today took the last stand for the future. They all fought for their lives, for tomorrow. And with his best and last friend at his side Harry fought and gave hell to everyone in his way.

Eleven hours did the battle for wizard-kind last and now only two remained standing. Dawn approached, and those who laid in the blood-soaked ground, still conscious, thought that soon when the sun appeared over the horizon, a new day would awaken; one that would have been marked as the birth of an age of darkness, or one that would signal the start of a fresh year of peace, yet they where both wrong, for a new day would not begin, because even fate did not know the results of a clash of power such as the one that so few witnessed today.

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No words where spoken between them; no taunts or offers of allegiance, no angry insults for murdered friends, not even a nod of acknowledgment. Words where useless between them; their minds where closed, their wands where ready and their eyes where blazing, one pair with crimson malice and another with emerald hope. They stood for a moment and sized each other up before launching into a deadly dance of attack and counter-attack. And curse after curse was thrown and deflected. Jinxes and charms, spells and incantations soon followed and neither did they show signs of tiring nor did they pause as the area around them started to glow with the amount of magic being used. They thought that this was the end, and they fought like it; with a ferocity and fierceness never seen before in wizarding history.

Time seamed to have given pause to watch the titanic struggle, making it feel as if the duel was stretching out for hours when only minutes had passed. And as the first fingers of the morning's soft touch turned the inky black of night into the warm grey and pink of a new day, it happened. Their spells met each other half way and as it took place in the graveyard all those years ago, a _priori incantatem_ effect was accomplished. A golden cage of light enclosed them and the battle of wills began. But this time it was different and Harry could feel it.

The song, the phoenix song that had been a background noise before, was a clear melody today, yet they did not pause in their battling, ignoring what was happening around them. So deep was their concentration to defeat the other that they didn't see the burst of flames at the top of the golden cage, nor did they see how the golden light pulsed with every note of the haunting melody; Fawkes started to circle the outside of the golden enclosure, making it shine brighter; his presence being required by the two parts of himself, the two feathers that resided inside of the combating wands. No longer bonded to the Hogwarts Headmaster he was a wild phoenix and he too was at war with himself.

Sweat mingled with his bleeding wounds and Harry hissed, his body battered as his will held evenly against Voldemort's, neither succeeding in moving the glowing orb in the middle nor making it waver; Voldemort having too much ambition to relent and Harry having sacrificed too much to lose now. Their wills where too strong and the small orb grew larger and larger until it could not take any more and burst out, sending the magic gathered back to their casters, creating a loop of magical energy as the cage-like web of magic was unfurled.

The last thing that Harry saw as blackness overtook him was the movement of some of the runes in his body and Fawkes having his final burning day, the brother wands burning along with the mythical bird, their combined ashes flickering around him…

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Consciousness slowly returned to him, making him aware of several things at once. One, being the almost palpable excitement he could feel from inside himself. The sentient presence of Hogwarts that resided within him was almost humming in anticipation. Two, was the fact that he was in a hospital bed. The smell of antiseptic was too strong to be anywhere else. And three, he was not dead.

Could it be that he had survived? But then, where would he be? St. Mungo's had been burned to the ground. There where no medical facilities left that could hold the smell of antiseptic. They all held the smell of death and destruction. Slowly he remembered what had happened and immediately wondered if Voldemort had finally been defeated. Who had been left? Who could have brought him here?

The feel of the scratchy hospital robes, the stiff linens and the smell reminded him of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, oh how he missed those stone walls. And yet, laying here as he was, his eyes closed, he could almost imagine that to be true, he could almost envision the sound of footsteps and the smell of lemon drops. Here, he could almost picture his mentor, almost…

"Ah! Good afternoon, my boy," said the voice of one Albus Dumbledore, "I see that you have awaken, I say Madam Bassett has been deeply worried about your health, how do you feel?"

Emerald green eyes snapped open in surprise, shock and astonishment mingled with the hope that maybe this was not a dream; tears welled in his eyes, finding their way across his pale features, his gaze never wavering from the sight of Albus Dumbledore. '_Could this be real?'_ He asked himself, '_or am I truly dead?' _

This last thought made him close his eyes and look away as a chocked sob found its way out of his body. If he was truly dead, then he had failed. Voldemort had won. That single thought started to consume him as despair glimmered into existence. But that glimmer was firmly snuffed out when an aging hand was placed on his shoulder; a very real hand.

Looking back he was once more encountered with the concerned periwinkle blue eyes and kind smile of the Hogwarts Headmaster, and a question finally broke through the confusion of his mind, "Where am I?" he rasped, his voice strained due to dehydration.

"You, my boy, are in the town of Hogsmeade," Dumbledore told him as he handed the young wizard a glass of water, something that left him speechless as the Headmaster continued, "in the home and under the excellent care of Hogwarts' resident medi-witch, Madam Bassett."

There where so many things wrong with that small statement, starting with the fact that Hogsmeade was no more, it had been destroyed along with Hogwarts, it no longer existed apart from a few stones and rubble that had once been the quaint little town. Yet the mere presence of Albus Dumbledore was a conundrum in and of itself. That is, until he finally took a good look at the Headmaster. For some reason he looked younger, not because he lacked wrinkles or his hair and beard where other then the silvery white it had always been, but his countenance was more optimistic then he remembered. This Albus Dumbledore did not have the weight of the world on his shoulders; Yet.

"What day is this?" Harry asked, trying to figure out what had happened and if what he was beginning to think was true, and if it was, then how?

"It is the thirteenth of July and you have been unconscious for almost three days now," Dumbledore stated, his eyes showing concern once more, "how do you feel, my boy? Madam Bassett was slightly distressed when one of the villagers brought you here, severely wounded and with no indication of where you are from—"

And as Harry processed this information something finally clicked, and telling himself that nothing was impossible when it came to him, he blurted out the question without a second thought, interrupting the venerable Headmaster, "what year is this?"

Surprised, Dumbledore stopped explaining about the condition he had been found in and looked at him from atop his half-mood spectacles, after all, very few dared interrupt the aging professor, his eyes becoming the sharp piercing gaze of the most powerful sorcerer in the world, and not that of the kindly Headmaster. "It is 1977," was Dumbledore's only guarded answer.

A gasp escaped his lips involuntarily and hope blossomed within him. All was not lost, if this was true, if this had happened, then he _could_. No, he _would_ end this. He could not only save his friends in the future but his parents in the past, or as he thought and corrected himself, the _present_. He could find the Horcruxes that had evaded him in his time, all without Voldemort's knowledge and intervention, without the Dark Wizard ever finding out that he knew of them and had been searching to destroy them, as had happened in his time. Making Voldemort retrieve and better hide and guard the remaining pieces of his soul. The implications of that short statement made by the Headmaster set Harry's mind whirling with the possibilities. After all, he knew all of the facts and history of the rise of Voldemort. He could prevent the mistakes that had allowed the Dark Wizard to get so close to victory. What other gift was this, other then one to allow him to put things right, to change things for the better.

It seamed he was wrong, fate was not a bitch after all. Just too damn complicated for its own good.

Thus, after absorbing the implications of his present situation and not having any other reaction to the news, he let go of his emotions for the first time in months, the thick wall that had before covered his heart and the wounds of the loss of all his friends collapsed and crumbled. He laughed and he cried as the deep emotional injuries of loss and despair where covered and healed by the prospect, the hope, the anticipation that a new future could be forged; that all those that he loved could be saved.

Quickly making the mental calculations he found that however impossible it had been thought to be, he had done it. He, however unwittingly, had traveled twenty years into the past. Could it be that this had something to do with the power mentioned in the prophecy? Could love really be that powerful? Even when it had been battered so much by despair only a few days ago?

At that last thought he was abruptly brought back to his right mind and his head snapped towards the Headmaster whose eyes still studied him with an intensity that until now had been unmatched. Emerald green eyes sharpened and focused completely on the Headmaster of Hogwarts, meeting the old sorcerers gaze unflinchingly, his own gaze now betraying the power he held, as his green irises took a vivid quality, sparkling as much as Dumbledore's twinkled.

"Tell me who you are stranger," Harry commanded formally as he lifted his head from his position on the bed, still looking towards the old wizard, "for my secrets cannot be revealed to those who do not know me."

Surprised that someone so young could know of traditions so old, the Headmaster took a few moments to study the boy in front of him before straightening up and making a decision. The air palpably thickened and the Headmaster released the tight reign in which he kept his magic. "I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the old wizard answered before following protocol, "who so inquires?"

With that question, Harry too released his magic, astonishing the Headmaster as he noticed that the young man before him was more powerful then even him, even if the control he had over his magic was shaky at best due to the damage he had suffered, both physical and emotional. Magic coursed through the room and following their wishes, sealed everything, enclosing them in the now private space. No one could now listen to what was about to be discussed, and as their magic mingled no lie could be shared between them.

It was something rarely done, since it left them and their magic vulnerable for the time that the formal introduction and their intentions where displayed. It was a ritual of trust between wizards. And it was the only thing that Harry could think of that would allow him to gain Dumbledore's trust and help the quickest. After all, there was much to be done, and he was not going to loose the time that had been given to him.

So it was that green eyes gazed at the old wizard with a trust that took the Headmaster aback, and answered, "I am Harry James Potter, soon to be a seventh year student at the now destroyed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry of the year 1997," he paused, the magic in the room thickening as it proclaimed what he had said and was about to say was the complete truth, "Son of James and Lily Potter and Godson to one Sirius Black. I stand before you in need for your assistance, for times will soon darken this land and before you lay's the only one that can bring an end to it."

When Harry finished this declaration and the Headmasters magic confirmed the truth of his statements all went silent and the air lightened and their magic retreated to once more being held tightly under their control. No words where spoken as they held their gazes; Harry's eyes confident and full of conviction as to the help that the Headmaster could provide in this uncharted past, and Dumbledore's dazed at the information he had just received in just a few short words.

Unsettled, the Headmaster looked away first, slightly unnerved by the young man that seamed to come from the future. Just the fact that he was sitting on that bed was a paradox in and of itself. What could have happened, he wandered, to make someone travel so many years into the past, even before their conception.

Visibly gaining his composure, the Headmaster once again braved to meet that emerald gaze, "I understand, child," he said seriously, "I will consult with Madam Bassett to see if you are well enough to leave her care; I dare say, we have much to discuss."

"Of course, Headmaster," Harry nodded, now more relaxed then before, and obviously less confused, "may I ask why you where here when I woke up and not the medi-witch, sir?"

"Of course," the old wizard said, his expression once again that of the benevolent professor, "Madam Bassett was most intrigued by the runes that seam to cover your left flank," he said, gesturing toward his exposed left arm and the runes that covered it, "as I am, with the exception of Hogwarts' own Runes Master, the most knowledgeable person in the area about these matters, I received her call and have been studying those runes that are currently exposed for the last day and a half," he paused as he stroked his beard, "It is without a doubt the most complicated set of runes I have ever seen working in coalition with each other, and although my curiosity is still quite roused that was not the only thing about you that unsettled the Matron…" the Headmaster trailed of, slightly worried.

Harry seeing the old wizards far away look interpreted it correctly and completed the thought, "I reeked of Dark Magic upon my arrival," he stated, knowing perfectly well that after a head to head confrontation with Voldemort, nothing else could be truer.

"Indeed," Dumbledore responded vaguely, "but those are matters that must be discussed in a more appropriate setting," he said heading towards the door, "rest, my boy, I will see to it that Madam Bassett comes to check up on you so that we may know when this discussion can be continued."

Nodding to the wizened wizard Harry slid into the covers and allowed himself to rest for the first time in weeks. Sleep overtook him even before the door to the small room where he now rested was closed.

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Harry awoke the next morning as the clear rays of dawn caressed his face. It was quite early, but he felt more rested and happy then he had in months. He felt lighter than he remembered being in a long time, and the small, contented smile that adorned his face was just proof of that. After all, hope was a formidable weapon, and the staggering amount that was contained within Harry at the moment could fuel the world for years to come. It was, in the end, impossible not to feel such hope, when only a few days back, Harry's continued existence, the whole world and its future where balanced precariously on the thin line of fate; Just one breath and all would had been lost.

"Good morning, young man," a soft, motherly voice brought his attention from the sight of the rising sun in the window to who he assumed was Madame Bassett as she closed the door and walked towards his bed. She was a grandmotherly old witch with graying hair, streaked with light brown and a kind face.

"Good morning, Madam Bassett," Harry greeted her with a smile, remembering the medi-witches name from his earlier conversation with the Headmaster.

She returned his smile and set about to fluff his pillows a bit before taking out her wand, "I must say, the Headmaster was quite right when he mentioned that you where a very interesting young man," the witch said as she waved her wand about him, seeing how his injuries where healing, "Usually my patients at school are never happy to be in a hospital bed for any period of time," she commented warmly as she tucked her wand in her front robe pocket, looking satisfied, and helped him sit up, allowing him to notice the tray of food that was sitting on his bedside table.

"Ah," Harry expressed, his eyes sparkling for the second time in months, as he got into a comfortable position and settling the tray comfortably, "I assure you madam, I would be the same if not for the injuries that I knew I had when I came into your care," he smiled, "At the moment, I'm only thankful that there is still a future for me to live through."

Madam Bassett paused at his words, before the smile returned to her face along with a look he only remember Mrs. Weasley ever having, "Now, have some food, dear," she told him sternly, "your flesh and bones, you are. And you need to recover a bit of strength. I say, potions can only do so much." She left him stuffing his face with the best breakfast he remembered having in a quite a while.

Soon, however, the medi-witch returned, banishing the tray and empty plates before checking on his injuries again; nodding to herself in apparent satisfaction.

"I must say, you're a quick healer, dear, you'll be up and about by tomorrow morning," she told him, looking at him oddly for a moment, as if she was restraining herself from saying something before the expression faded and she smiled at him again, "in any case, the Headmaster will be here this afternoon, and I must insist that you rest some more before speaking with him. I say, some more sleep would not be amiss."

With that, she helped him lie down again, closing the drapes and closing the door behind her, leaving him to rest. Sleep soon reached him and his eyes closed of their own volition.

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The next time he awoke, Harry felt his energy returning to him and his body awaking along with his mind from the lethargic state that had kept him in bed during his recovery. His magic, before raw and somewhat uncontrolled due to his injured state when he had first met the Dumbledore of this time, now returned to the refined control that he had learned throughout the years. A control only matched by the Headmaster and Voldemort. His mind regained the sharp acuteness that had evaded him under the potions that had kept him alive, and with it added to the new found hope that his situation provided, the intensity of his green gaze raised to new levels.

Slowly getting into a sitting position on the right side of the bed and looking towards the door, Harry concentrated slightly, making the hangings on the windows open, revealing the afternoon sun, which caressed his back with its warmth. His long loose white hair fell all around as he bowed his face and took stock of himself. Concentrating on all of his body and mind, he entered a slight meditation, looking to see if all his injuries had healed.

And they had. All he needed now was a shower and he could officially say that he hadn't felt this good in years.

The creak of the door opening a bit brought his relaxed yet intense green gaze to the entrance of the small room, where Madam Bassett peered through. "Ah!" she exclaimed, opening the door to the fullest and coming in as she saw him sitting on the bed, "I see that you are doing quite well." In her arms she held what looked like some folded clothing.

"Yes, ma'am, I was just going to fetch you and ask if there was anyway I could get a shower," he said, smiling slightly on the sheepish side.

"I thought you would like one. That's why I brought you some clothes to wear, which I was going to leave for you for when you woke up. It seams that I was right on time," she explained with a motherly smile while she placed the clothes on the foot of his bed. "I say, I was expecting you to be up and about after you came too, after all, the effects of some of the potions I gave you should be wearing off by now," she paused a bit and gave his white hair a puzzled look before pointing to a door he hadn't noticed before, "there's the bathroom, over there. I'll be right back with some lunch for you."

Thanking her for all of her help, which she waved off as being her job, she shooed him toward the bathroom and then left the room, leaving him to take a long, leisurely warm and invigorating shower. Afterwards, he sighed in contentment, the stress and hardships that had weighed down his heart for the past months where almost completely gone. As if the water had just washed them away.

Pausing a moment to think if he had missed something, Harry shrugged on a bathrobe and slowly walked back into the room and towards the small pile of clothes that Madam Bassett had left him. Drying and braiding his long hair with a wave of his left hand, Harry picked up the now obviously new clothes and robes and got dressed. They fit perfectly and the dark grey color of the robes made his features stand out all the more.

When the door opened not a second later, with a tray a food followed by Madam Bassett, Harry moved to one of the two armchairs in the corner of the room and sat down, thanking the medi-witch once again, not only for the food, but for the wonderful robes, promising that he would pay for them when he could.

The old witch just waved him off, "Nonsense, young man, besides, it was the Headmaster who sent you those robes, so if there's anyone who you should be thanking, it's him."

"I see," Harry said as his eyes shifted to just beyond the old medi-witch, "Thank you Headmaster," he said, surprising the medi-witch, who turned around just in time to see the old sorcerer opening the door, his eyes twinkling overmuch.

"No thanks are needed, my boy," the wizened wizard said, not as surprised as Madam Bassett by Harry's greeting. "But please, do not let me interrupt," he gestured at his lunch, "I must speak with Hilda for a moment before we can finish the conversation that we started yesterday," he said to Harry, before turning his attention to the medi-witch, "Madam?" he gestured to the outside, where the medi-witch headed, closely followed by the Headmaster. Harry just shrugged and started eating the delicious food, savoring every bite.

After all, hope lived on, renewed and unmatched. A clear future, for the first time since he entered the Wizarding World was evident in his eyes.

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_**To be continued…**_


	2. Memories of Time

_**Disclaimer:**_ Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series are the property of J.K. Rowling, and various publishers: including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by the writing of this story.

_**A/N: **_Hello all! I'm delighted that you liked the start of this story! I was slightly afraid that it wouldn't be well received since I tampered so much with Harry's sixth year and what not. But alas, I needed a more dramatic end, and a more grim procession of events than what JKR provided us with, amongst other things. This is why the story is AU, after all.

In any case, I hope you enjoy this latest installment. And do tell me what you think, eh? Any feedback will be greatly appreciated.

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Chapter Two  
**Memories of Time **

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As Harry finished his meal, Dumbledore walked in with Madam Bassett beside him. Both of them looked at Harry for a moment before the medi-witch turned toward the Headmaster with a sigh and gave a rather reluctant nod before squaring her shoulders and pulling out her wand. She gave it a quick wave and the tray that now sat in the coffee table banished. With a small shake of her head and a slight smile at Harry the Healer quickly left the room, muttering under her breath like a worried mother hen. 

Confused, Harry turned toward the Headmaster who held up his hand as the door closed behind Madam Bassett. "Come, my boy, we have much to discuss," was the only thing that Dumbledore said as he pulled out a silver spoon from one of the inner pockets of his robes, waving Harry over as he held out the utensil in front of him. "It will take us straight to my office and help us avoid any unwanted attention for the moment being," the old sorcerer explained.

Nodding his head in understanding, Harry grasped the end of the spoon as Dumbledore tapped it with his wand. A pull behind the navel and a whirlwind of color later, both stood inside the circular office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Yet, as they arrived, not barely a second after their feet had touched the stone floors of the ancient castle and without any warning, Harry fell to one knee, seemingly being forced to kneel before a being of great importance, as the future spirit of Hogwarts that resided inside of him recognized its past self and its younger walls, flowing through him as it established some kind of contact.

The amount of power that flowed through Harry in the next fifteen seconds where astonishing to behold, surprising the younger wizard and shocking Dumbledore and the portraits of the past Headmasters and Headmistresses into silence, for as he sat there in one knee, with his left hand pressed against the stone floor, the runes that remained visible on his left hand and on his neck started glowing a variety of colors, some moving slowly as others moved more swiftly on the surface of his skin.

Even with the dark material of his grey robes, due to the sheer potency of the magic and the brightness of its glow, the rest of the runes shone through the layers of fabric until all the colors melded together into a bright, blinding white; making Harry close his eyes and everyone else look the other way. The next few seconds felt like hours to the aged Headmaster until the glow started to recede, leaving a softly smiling Harry as he watched with amazement at his left hand.

When the old wizard followed his gaze he noticed a new set of runes etched on the top of the young wizard's hand. Where random spirals of dark colored runes had before covered the top of his palm, now a crest was clearly visible.

Kneeling in front of the young man, worry and curiosity making his movement swifter than someone his age should be capable of, Albus Dumbledore slowly took Harry's left hand just as all the runes finished settling and their glow diminished until there was no more movement or anything else out of the ordinary; if the Headmaster hadn't seen it happen, he would have assumed that those runes had been there for a very long time. A soft gasp escaped the wise professor, making Harry turn his glowing gaze onto the Headmaster.

"Do you know what this means, my boy?" The Headmaster asked without looking up from the runes, curiosity lacing his words.

"Yes," Harry answered softly, startling the old sorcerer into looking at the young man in the eyes. "Hogwarts has recognized me as its Heir," he whispered simply, slightly overwhelmed, yet warmly happy, "she has chosen me as her liege and has forever given me a home," he finished gently, too besieged by emotions to say any more.

The Headmaster just stood silently, looking at the Crest more sharply, astounded by what the young wizard was telling him; Surrounded by several black and dark-gray sets of runes a starkly white crest now rested; The Hogwarts Crest. It was made up of miniature white, almost silvery runes, reflecting any kind of light that touched Harry's skin. "My boy," the Headmaster said, helping Harry up from his knees and into a chair, "you are just full of surprises, aren't you?" he asked, only to stop short as Harry gained a far away look.

A few minutes went past without the Headmaster being able to claim Harry's attention and simply led the lad into an armchair, a vacant expression still on his green eyes, and started thinking of how to explain the young man that was such an enigma, but inspired so much trust at the same time; a young teen that seamed to be the answer to fight the growing darkness of the Dark Lord's rise to power, yet being slightly covered in darkness himself, even though he radiated an unprecedented amount of love, a power that the Headmaster had never felt so palpably before.

And it was because of this love that he decided to wait and chose to curb his desire to read the child's mind, as he sometimes did when confronted with a human puzzle such as this. After all, it would not do to betray the trust that the young, powerful wizard seamed to have in him, or better said, his future self.

Thus, Albus Dumbledore waited until the answers where given to him instead of getting them himself, as he usually did. Indeed, the Headmaster chose ignorance in the presence of the trust that one unknown wizard held in him. An unprecedented feat, if ever there was one.

-  
- o -  
-

Slowly blinking his eyes, Harry became aware of his surroundings some hours later, his movements slow and predetermined. The Headmaster sat behind his desk, a thick, dusty tomb resting before him as his eyes darted this way and that and the pages fluttered every few seconds. Fawkes' perch, like when he arrived, stood empty beside the oak desk and the paintings of the past Headmasters and Headmistresses feigned sleep, yet, some of them twitched as his emerald green eyes where directed at them.

Finally, knowing that he was safe, and remembering the events of the past few hours, he glanced back at his left hand, encountering the shining silvery white crest of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was beautiful to behold, the diminutive white runes that made up the shape of the crest itself seemed to swirl slightly, as if it where alive. Looking up he took a small breath and deliberately cleared his throat, drawing the Headmasters attention to himself.

"Ah," the old sorcerer exclaimed as he looked at Harry over his half-moon spectacles, gently closing the book he was previously reading, "Welcome back, my boy," he said with a little more warmth then Harry remembered being there, reminding him of the Dumbledore of his time, "I must say, I am very curious as to what happened earlier and how you seam to know what it means, when not even I, in my capacity of Headmaster of this school have knowledge that such things are even possible."

Harry sighed slightly and leaned back in his chair, thinking of how best to explain his situation, before deciding on a course of action. One, that even though would take a lot of time, it would also prove to be the most effective and complete. The only problem with it was that of the amount of knowledge that he would have to entrust to the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Very well, sir," Harry told the old sorcerer, giving him a deep penetrating gaze before continuing, "but for you to even begin to understand the present, you must understand my past, or, to be more precise, the future that my presence here has avoided."

Dumbledore just nodded his head and looked on with a curious twinkle as Harry stood up and walked to his cabinet, opening it and taking out a stone basin before closing it again, something that prompted the old wizards eyebrows to rise slightly because of the relaxed casualness that the young man seamed to have while going about his office, quickly noticing that Harry was gently holding the stone pensive and walking to the left side of his office, where his telescope and bookcases where.

This above all else surprised him, even more so when his suspicions where proven true as the young wizard twisted three different handles in the telescope to a predetermined setting of degrees, latitudes and longitudes, that only he was supposed to know, with an amazing amount of ease and familiarity before pressing something on the underside of the magnificent gold-plated antique and muttering a long string of constellation under his breath that only a Headmaster of Hogwarts should know.

So it was with his inquisitiveness more provoked then ever, that Albus Dumbledore followed the future son of his soon to be seventh year students, Lily and James, up the spiral staircase that started rising from the floor around the telescope. A staircase that was supposed to be a secret to everyone but the Headmaster of the school, for this was not only a secret entrance and shortcut to the Headmasters' chambers and residence in the center tower of the castle, but it was also the only way to access a very special room at Hogwarts. That in which all of the protections of the school were grounded and where all of the wards that surrounded the school where centered.

Stopping at a dead end in a short corridor, Harry pushed a series of stones in a pattern that the old sorcerer recognized as that of his chambers and not that of the Wards' Hall. Intrigued even more then before, Dumbledore fallowed the white haired youth into the comfortable sitting room where Harry had lowered the pensive atop of the coffee table, finally directing his attention to the Headmaster.

"I have a few questions before we begin, Headmaster," Harry asked as he sat down in a comfortable couch and motioned to the old wizard to sit on his own living room.

Ignoring the million questions that passed through his mind at that moment, Albus Dumbledore just nodded his head slightly before taking a seat in an overstuffed armchair opposite to the green eyed youth. If nothing else, he was extremely amused at this turn of events.

Harry, already thinking of what memories to show the Headmaster and what sequence would better explain everything, thought for a few more moment before nodding to himself and then addressing the Headmaster, "As you can probably imagine, sir, I want to show you some of my memories so that you may better understand the situation, some of what is to come and how I got here in the first place. After all, if I am to prevent what happened in my time from happening again, then I will need your help. Unfortunately, we don't have two years for me to show you the most important and essential memories of my almost seventeen years of life, since that is about the time it would take for them to be viewed if they where seen consecutively. So I am planning to just show you key pieces and explain the rest as best I can. Maybe then we can make sense of all this," he finished, gesturing to the shining crest on his left hand.

Stroking his long beard thoughtfully, the headmaster nodded in understanding, "Indeed, I understand that particular dilemma. I will help you as much as I am able, but I would rather not spend the next two years of my life watching memories in a pensive," he said chuckling, "but you have yet to ask your questions, my boy. I myself have enough for the both of us, I imagine."

"Yes, sir, of course," Harry nodded, "after all, time is of the essence." He paused, before continuing, hesitating slightly, "I'll be honest, Headmaster, the shortest version of the events in my life that I can show you, that have a part to play in the greater scheme of things, and be at least comprehendible will last close to a week to narrate and show if we do not pause, two weeks if we break it up to fit our day more comfortably, and seeing as the time that I have been inexplicably given is starting to tick against me, a lot of things have to be arranged before I can even start to do what I must, not the least of witch is getting my wand again.

"My question is; do you have the time to actually view all these memories and hear all of my explanations? Does anyone require your presence in the coming weeks? You must know that at the moment I officially don't exist in this time, something that has to be resolved. What I'm asking, I guess, is; can you help me in these first few weeks without arousing suspicion by your prolonged absence or drawing sudden attention to me? I ask this because I need to be able to move around without much suspicion myself and without drawing Voldemort's attention too soon.

"There are things coming that need to be stopped, and even though I will inform you of everything that I can, I will need you to trust me to do what I must for my future to be a better one. Again, I will ask, will you help me Professor Dumbledore? Will you allow me to finish this war before too many find their end at its hands? Will you assist me in bringing about a future where Hogwarts will not be destroyed and where those of my family and friends that remain do not have to live in grief and loss? There is much to be done; will you help me do what is right?"

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, just sat there for a few moments, mesmerized by the crystal tear that rolled down the young wizard's cheek. Overwhelmed by the selflessness that Harry showed, moved by the intensity of his words. He did not have to think before he answered softly. "Yes," he whispered, "I will help you, dear child, in anything that is within my considerable power to do."

Expelling a breath that Harry didn't know he was holding, he smiled, relieved that he was able to gain Dumbledore's support before he pulled the pensive toward himself and extended a hand toward the Headmaster, too focused in which memory he was going to start with to think about what he was doing, "could I borrow your wand, sir?"

Dumbledore pulled out his wand without hesitation and handed it to the young wizard with care. As Harry's right hand closed around the handle of the ancient carved wand of the most powerful sorcerer of the age, his head snapped up and his eyes widened, looking from the wand to the Headmaster, who's eyes where twinkling merrily.

The trust that the Headmaster had shown him with that simple action was incredible in and of itself, leaving Harry speechless and without a clue of what to do; apologize for being so disrespectful and presumptuous by asking for the Headmaster to give him his wand and thus disarm himself, or to thank him for the incredible show of trust. Not knowing what to do, Harry just nodded at the old sorcerer and concentrated once more, placing the tip of the wand to his temple and extracting a long silvery line of memory.

"I guess that the beginning is always the best place to start," he said absently, placing the memory into the pensive and prodding it a little, before pushing the pensive toward the Headmaster, whispering, "after all, everything starts with the boy named Tom Marvolo Riddle…"

-  
- o -  
-

The rest of that day passed in deep discussion between the two wizards, as Harry explained to the Dumbledore of this time what his future self had revealed to him almost 20 years in the future, during his sixth year, while his training progressed. Slowly, the beginning of the tale was weaved as Harry explained about the Gaunt line, descendants of Slytherin, which, even though the Headmaster knew about, contained some details that would later explain many more things.

Harry talked to Dumbledore and explained what he could of the reasoning behind the memories, taking into account the serious repercussions that some of these things had on his time. He told the story of Marvolo Gaunt, Voldemort's Grandfather; Morfin, his uncle and Merope Gaunt, Tom's mother. Taking a much needed break for lunch, they ate at the Headmasters chambers before continuing on.

By both telling the story and showing a few short, key memories, Harry was able to explain Voldemort's ancestry to the Headmaster, something that Dumbledore would not have put together for a few years yet. Showing and telling the Headmaster the account of Voldemort's mother, her infatuation with the Muggle, Tom Riddle, and how she tricked him into marrying her and leaving his muggle fiancé by use of a love potion, later telling the Headmaster how her delusional mind made her release Riddle Sr. from the potion that bent him to her will once she was with child, thinking that he was truly in love with her.

Harry also took care to point out the Gaunt family ring, which fell to Morfin's possession, and Slytherin's locket, which Merope pawned for ten galleons after she was abandoned by Riddle Sr. and was pregnant with Tom Jr.

However, Harry paused here, not being able to continue farther with the story without breaking it at a key point of Voldemort's development. Thus, the two wizards had a filling dinner before Dumbledore, some time later, decided to broach a subject that had been in both of their minds.

The Headmaster sipped a bit of tea before commenting, "I imagine that the first step to integrate you to this time would be to create a new identity for you, my boy. After all, all Potters are well known, and the sudden emergence of a new, unknown one, even to the members of their family, would cause much scrutiny."

"Yeah," Harry responded, slightly worried, "not that I look anything like a Potter at the moment," he commented, tugging lightly at his thickly braided, waist-long, silvery white hair and motioning to the variety of runes that covered his left side, "not to mention my very sudden appearance in times such as these," he finished with a pained grimace, knowing how much attention that would garner. But, like his last two years, Harry would be able to cope with any attention that he might gain and use it to his benefit. After all, this was war and any advantage he could get was for the better.

"Then let us find you a new identity, my boy," Dumbledore stated, "if the process is initiated tomorrow morning, I could probably place the needed documents within the ministry without anyone being the wiser," he explained with a tricky twinkle in his periwinkle blue eyes, "now, when where you born, child? The more we stay to the truth, the better…"

They passed the remainder of the night planning for what was to come and how to better integrate Harry's identity to this time. A new name was created, the documents needed to make him 'exist' in this time where listed, and the Headmaster used his considerable knowledge of genealogy and other subjects to resurface a dying family line that had been thought to be on the road to extinction by communicating with its last living member.

When the Headmaster noted that it was well after midnight he called a House Elf to ready the guest room and escorted Harry to a bedchamber located besides his own, where the exhausted teen soon fell asleep; His dreams untroubled by the past and undisturbed by the possible future.

-  
- o -  
-

The next morning, Harry awoke warm and comfortable, having slept in for the first time in a long time. Dumbledore had promised to go to the Ministry that morning to start solidifying his new identity into a reality. If all went as planned, then Harry would be able to finally get out and about the day of his birthday, about two weeks from now, when he became of age, and use the month before school started getting ready for what was to come.

Slowly, he got up sleepily and headed to the shower, being grateful to the Headmaster for the robes he left him to wear last night. After freshening up, Harry called a House Elf and asked for some breakfast before walking out into the sitting room and picking a book from the shelf. It was a book on magical cooking; something that he'd always wanted to learn. Settling himself comfortably in the couch and thanking the House Elf when his breakfast appeared, Harry immersed himself in the book, enjoying the somewhat witty remarks of the author and relaxing a bit.

Some time after finishing his breakfast he put the cooking book aside, wishing he had a wand to practice some of the charms, and switched to a novel-like book about a family of dragons and a boy; it was, after all, better to pass the time without the constant reminder of his lack of a wand, which was setting him more on edge as the days passed. Even if he could use his magic without it, in the end, it is at least a comfort to have your wand beside you.

The Headmaster arrived in the early afternoon, looking pleased about something, but avoiding Harry's questions on the morning's progress before he got tired of the inane comments that the old sorcerer used to respond to his questions.

Soon enough, though, and after a light lunch, Harry and the Headmaster turned once more to the memories and Harry's recounting of Voldemort's origins, starting this afternoon with the life of Tom Marvolo Riddle himself, telling the headmaster of how oddly quiet he was as a baby, the abuse that he suffered and how he coped with it; how his cruelty grew and blossomed. Harry explained how Tom began to terrorize the children on his orphanage, how he used his newly discovered magical abilities to frighten and intimidate his fellow orphans until he finally reached the story of the children that he lead into a sea cave, during an outing of his orphanage, telling the Headmaster how the children where never the same after that day.

The days passed and afternoons waned and nighttime approached as Harry told the story of the monster now named Voldemort, showing to the wizened wizard his future self's' memories of his encounters with Tom before he came to Hogwarts and later shortened stories of Tom's time in the school. Telling the old sorcerer when the boy he had known as Tom self christened himself Lord Voldemort.

Dumbledore too, shared a few memories of his encounters with a young Tom; filling in a few gaps for Harry about his enemy's character before they would adjourn for the day and resumed planning and discussing Harry's new identity.

That night, an old witch, the last of her line was contacted by the Headmaster and gained her support in their plan, before explaining to Harry the difficulties of the process ahead. Tomorrow he would go to Gringotts to discreetly begin the next stage of the proceedings; resurrect the Everard line's monetary assets and Manor Home, after all, the Heir of the line would be coming of age soon and everything had to be ready for his arrival…

-  
- o -  
-

The next couple of weeks passed slightly in the same line, with the Headmaster using all of his free time in the mornings to cement Harry's new identity, even as he kept up appearances. It was of primary importance that everything where made ready for his coming of age, or people might get suspicious.

Over those two weeks Harry continued his explanations and Dumbledore was slightly shocked when his past suspicions where proven true as Harry told him of the time that Tom opened the Chamber of Secrets. But it was the memory of Horace Slughorn telling the then sixth year Tom Riddle about Horcruxes that truly horrified him. Finally putting together the meaning of the snippets of memories he had been shown during the past few days along with everything that Harry had explained to him of Tom's behavior and habits.

He was more surprised and dismayed yet, when Harry continued his story and told him about the first Horcrux that Voldemort created; that of a diary. The hours and days went past as memory after memory were revealed to the Headmaster, many in which he saw himself as the center of the memory, explaining this same story to Harry.

The old sorcerer soon understood the earlier memories of the Gaunt family ring as Harry explained how Tom had turned it into his Second Horcrux, which made the wizard understand that Tom's goals for immortality where truly put into action, and he realized how difficult it would be to destroy Voldemort whilst a piece of his soul still remained earthbound, and thanked fate for sending Harry back. At least now there was a chance to stop him before things turned for the worst.

Soon came those memories of Voldemort's graduation, of his work in Borgin and Burkes and his dealings with the witch Hepzibah, where he obtained Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket by murdering her and assigning the blame to her House Elf, leaving Dumbledore truly worried, for this meant that there where already four Horcruxes in existence.

But his attention was then caught at the end of their first week by Harry's words as he then told him of Voldemort's' travels and the many rituals performed on himself, adding to the information that the Headmaster already knew of, finishing with Riddle's return to England, publicly proclaiming himself as Lord Voldemort in the 70s and incorporating his Death Eaters soon after that, "All of this you probably already know, Sir," Harry finished the days tale, "as you and now me are most likely living his rise to power, even though he does not reach the height of his power, according to history, until about one or two years from now."

When no more could be said about Voldemort, Harry turned to his own life, starting with the event that forever intertwined his destiny with Voldemort's— the prophecy. As Harry recounted the events of the telling of the prophecy Dumbledore grew somber, already having an inkling of what was to be said; a single tear escaped his severe blue eyes as the fate of the child in front of him was sealed by a few words, words that rebounded in his head, echoing against the sadness that covered his heart as he imagined the life that the young wizard had faced because of those words of destiny.

The next morning, the Headmaster called for the Order of the Phoenix to locate and bring to Hogwarts, one, Sybil Trelawney.

And then Harry turned to the facts of his and Voldemort's fate, how he was marked as his equal on that Halloween night; How Voldemort's spirit lived and his attempts to recover his body until he was successful. Harry showed the Headmaster only the basics of this, recounting only those events that showed off his intertwined fate with the Dark Lord.

He retold the story of the Sorcerers Stone, the Chamber of Secrets and then Voldemort's resurrection. He recounted his knowledge about his scar and the link that he possessed with the Dark Lord, promising to himself to strengthen the connection and see if it was still there and if it could be used against Voldemort. Harry then went on to show the Headmaster that fateful day when Hogwarts was destroyed.

Never had something moved the aged Headmaster so, as when he saw the stones and walls of the millennia old school fall. But hope blossomed within him as he saw the magic of Hogwarts choose a new host in the form of the young wizard that he had come to know so well the last week, a young man that had gained his implicit trust in a matter of hours. What amazed the Headmaster more was when Harry showed him the last memory he had of his own timeline; the memory of his battle with Tom Riddle. A battle predestined to happen and ruled by fate and destiny. A battle that made the impossible occur by allowing a Time Loop to be created.

Dumbledore watched in amazed wonder as Light and Dark, Hope and Despair, Creation and Destruction and Love and Hate, clashed in their bodily representation of Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort. He watched the impossible happened as their emotions fueled their magic. Albus Dumbledore finally understood, and his respect for not only the power that Harry possessed but the way that he wielded it, with love, compassion and hope, grew exponentially.

And as Harry's coming of age approached, and that past and future where finally put into perspective, allowing them to help create a better present, they retired for the night, both thinking of different things, but both awaiting what was to come.

-  
- o -  
-

The gentle caress of the suns early ascent reflected upon the pale features of Harry Potter as he surveyed the coming of a new day with calm emerald green eyes; Eyes that held knowledge of the past, that showed an awareness of the present and a deep understanding of the future.

And as the sun rose completely from the mountainous covers of the horizon, Harry readied himself for what the morrow might bring. Two weeks had passed since his arrival, and as his birthday and coming of age neared, not even two days from now, and the plans that he and the Headmaster had devised where ready to be put into effect, he became pensive; thinking of the month that was before him.

For in front of him a new future was being made, a new story was being written. In front of him, and with him as the catalyst of change, a new timeline was being forged. From the moment that he stepped outside of Hogwarts tomorrow, merely a day from now, each one of his steps will have an influence in what was to come. And the weight of that responsibility almost overwhelmed him. _Almost_. Because the thought of just how terrible the future might become gave him strength to help avoid that future at all cost. It was his task. It was his destiny.

And to fulfill that destiny, swift steps had to be taken. The Horcruxes had to be found and located with all speed and haste, even if they where not to be removed until the time was right. Voldemort's attention had to be captivated to avoid and prevent him from making new ones, attract his attention is such a way that he did not consider splitting his soul once more. Fight him without him aware that the knowledge of his supposed immortality was known. In short, the war had to be moved to the Dark Lord's doorstep. Everything had to be established and put into motion. The battlefield had to be prepared. And when all was ready, when victory could be assured, then the fatal strike would be made and the Horcruxes would be annihilated.

But that moment was too far yet to be concerned about. What he should be concerned about was his quick introduction in this timeline and his establishment in the war effort. Hogwarts had to be secured and his identity had to be cemented in a matter of hours after he finally revealed himself. He would have to take his O.W.L.'s and the sixth year qualification exams to be able to join the seventh years come September the first. His identity as an _Everard_ had to be proven. His wand had to be purchased and many more things had to be done.

His first actions would surely garner the Dark Lords complete attention. After all, if he remembered correctly, the Dementors of Azkaban had united forces with Voldemort at the end of the summer of this year. Something that Harry had every intention of avoiding. But in the end, that small stunt of either convincing the guards of Azkaban to not join the Dark Lord or to destroy them before they did was not what would earn the complete focus of Lord Voldemort's crimson gaze. No, Harry knew that that little setback would only enrage the Heir of Slytherin. What would make Voldemort's attention snap towards him in a second was the formal and official appearance of the legitimate and direct Heir of Godric Gryffindor.

'_Indeed'_, Harry thought as he tore his gaze from the window and walked over to the book that he was reading at the moment, his waist length silvery-white hair swaying gently in the breeze as he made himself comfortable, '_Voldemort won't know what hit him'_.

* * *

_**To be continued…**_


	3. Unleashed Courage

_**Disclaimer:**_ Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series are the property of J.K. Rowling, and various publishers: including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by the writing of this story.

_**A/N: **_Ok, so I'm a bit excited about this story and the possibilities that it presents. Alas, my imagination has not given rest to the endless possibilities that this tale brings and I find myself distracted by them. So wish me luck in gathering my wits! Do enjoy this next chapter and leave a review when you're done, will you?

* * *

Chapter Three  
**Unleashed**** Courage **

* * *

Halls of stone and magic almost hummed in anticipation that day. Ghosts, portraits and the few live inhabitants of the castle in the short months of the summer break looked around in wonder, for the very walls of the old school felt alive, thrumming with both magic and a feeling that no one could identify. It was the first time that they had felt Hogwarts like this; it was the first time that they had felt Hogwarts _at all_. And they were awed by the display and humbled by the force of it, for even if they were once told that the school was sentient, and in some degree they believed it; they never imagined that the school, its halls, its walls and its stones could actually _feel_. 

But this very morning not one person could deny that claim if it where voiced out loud, for every stone of the school seamed to shine, to glow with anticipation and love. If asked, even Mr. Filch, the schools squib caretaker, would say that he felt as if the school was _welcoming_ someone, seemingly _embracing_ a long lost child.

And as Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall looked up from her desk, she was astonished by the feel of the old stone walls, and even more amazed when her gaze passed over the enchanted Quill that signed and addressed every one of the letters that were to be sent out that day. For the Quill itself seamed to be humming along with the castle and in front of her very eyes the most spectacular thing happened.

Where the green and silver, two foot long, feathered Quill sat, poised to begin addressing envelopes on the thirty-first of July for returning students, now a glowing beam of light could be seen, and as the light seamed to be absorbed by the Quill, it started. From the outer edges of the feather, slowly, like a trickle of water in a stream, the feathers' color changed until a Royal Red and Gold Quill stood there, shining like a phoenixes tail feather, alight with an intensity that left the silent Professor stunned. And then, exactly five second later, at ten thirty in the morning, an envelope flew from one of the piles in the corner of the office and landed neatly in the podium where the Quill has always rested.

Slowly, as if writing reverently, the Hogwarts Quill started to move, to write. And Minerva McGonagall stood from her desk, surprised, not only by the movements of the Quill, since it usually activated at noon of that day every year, not a minute more, nor a minute less, but by the color and its change. For that could only mean one thing and one thing only. The Heir of Gryffindor had been recognized and officially acknowledged by Hogwarts.

Hope blossomed in the eyes of the Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, as she respectfully approached the podium where the Quill now rested, poised and immobile, yet still giving a resplendent glow. And as she read the now addressed letter her heart rate increased and she quickly snapped out of her daze, grabbing the addressed letter and hastily striding out of her office. _The Headmaster should be aware of this_, was the only thought that crossed her mind as she took a look at the name on the letter once again. There, for all to see, in vivid red and gold graceful writing, was the name of a young wizard whose family had been long thought to have died out years ago, a wizard whose existence was as unknown as his heritage.

With a last glance at the name, Minerva McGonagall increased her pace, for in her hand she held the seventh year acceptance letter of one,_ Alexander Prius Everard.  
_

-  
- o -  
-

In a swirl of royal purple robes with shining silver stars, Albus Dumbledore came out of his chambers, a skip on his step and a twinkle in his eyes. He walked silently towards the tall figure standing by the window, hands clasped behind his back. Pausing for a moment to take a look at the young wizard, who stood pensively, his green eyes sparkling as much as Dumbledore's twinkled; his silvery-white hair arranged in a braid that started after his shoulders and continued slightly until the middle of his back, where it unraveled into a neatly arranged pony tail. His stance was confident, his posture relaxed as the deep red cloak that covered his broad shoulders swayed with the breeze, slightly revealing the red robes he wore underneath.

Smiling slightly, Dumbledore took the last few steps and stood beside the extraordinary young man, "It is almost time, my boy," were his only words to the youth.

Slowly, as if coming out of deep concentration, Harry slowly glanced to his right at the regal looking Headmaster, offering him a slight smile before looking to the left, to the grandfather clock that stood there. It was eight in the morning of the thirty first of July. The gentle smile that adorned the youth's face slowly changed into a smirk, "It seams so, Headmaster," was his only response as he turned his gaze toward the venerable old sorcerer once more.

"Indeed," the Headmaster answered with a nod and reached into a pocket of his robes, "I must say, I expect it will be a very eventful day," he said and paused as he pulled out a small crystal container and took one of the candies stored within, before offering one to the young wizard, "lemon drop?"

Harry's eyes just sparkled more as he took one of the sweets, "certainly, Headmaster," he said, inclining his head and popping the sour candy in his mouth, "thank you."

"Not a problem, dear child, not a problem," the old sorcerer answered as he stored the container in his robes one more time, before gesturing at Harry to follow him.

Nodding slightly both Harry and Dumbledore left the chambers and headed down towards the Headmasters office, where they silently waited until the spiral staircase that led to the upper parts of the tower where once again closed and hidden.

Without so much as a word both swept over to the fireplace and Harry once again noted the absence of the Headmasters Phoenix, Fawkes, before directing his attention to the old sorcerer himself, who was now holding a container with Floo Powder in his right hand.

Taking a pinch of the green powder Harry stepped forward, readying himself for what was to come before nodding to the aged wizard. "I will see you at noon Headmaster, again, thank you for all your help."

"Nonsense, my boy, it is I who is eternally grateful to you. Now go, time if of the essence, and we must be swift in our execution of our plans."

"Of course, sir," Harry nodded, "good luck," and with one last glance at the venerable Headmaster he turned to the fireplace, pulling up the hood of his cloak and throwing the powder before stepping inside, confidently whispering _Diagon Alley_ before he was quickly swooped away by the green flames.

"Yes, good luck to you as well, my boy," the Headmaster of Hogwarts said quietly, his eyes still twinkling merrily as he took a pinch of Floo Powder for himself, "the wizarding world is in for quite a surprise," he muttered as he stepped into the green flames, whispering a clear _Ministry of Magic_, under his breath. And for the first time in two weeks, the Headmaster's Tower in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry stood empty, save for the lone House Elf who was at this very moment closing the guest bedchambers that had previously been occupied.

-  
- o -  
-

Witches and Wizards looked wearily towards the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron as a tall figure with a dark red cloak unfolded himself from the green flames of the Floo Network, stepping gracefully out of the grate, not showing a sign of soot or dust in any part of his person. The only visible feature of this stranger was the startlingly silvery-white braid of hair that came out of the left side of his hood and lay swaying at his side. No one made a sound as the cloaked foreigner nodded his hooded head towards a guarded Tom, the barkeep, and then stalked out of the bar with a sweep of his cloak.

Harry just smirked under his hood. Everyone was weary of those that they did not know at this time. The rising Dark Lord already held them with fear and long has it been since the name Voldemort has been uttered by anyone but the Hogwarts Headmaster. When he approached the brick wall that marked the entrance to the alley, Harry just raised his left hand and tapped the correct bricks with his rune tipped index finger. After all, the magic that permeated his skin was enough to activate the magic of the barrier.

Slowly, when the archway opened to reveal a very young looking Diagon Alley, Harry didn't hesitate and headed straight to Ollivander's, after all, he needed his wand before he did anything else. These where not times to walk around unarmed, after all.

Many glances followed him as he made his way through the alley, but no one did more then stare. When he reached the wand makers shop, he paused at the entrance and took a deep breath, pushing the door open after he started to release it.

As the door slowly snapped closed and the tinkling sound of the bell receded into the echoes of the shop, Harry's eyes sharpened and turned to his left as the sound of dust being disturbed caught his attention. There stood the clear eyed form of the wand-maker, looking at him curiously as he silently closed the door of his workroom.

"Very few are alert enough to hear me as I enter the shop, and less are those who are quick enough to catch me before the door is closed," Mr. Ollivander stated as he moved to the counter and peered at him curiously. After a slight pause where the old wizard tried to determine who the hooded person in his shop was, he finally spoke, "and how may I help you, Mr.…?"

"Potter, Mr. Ollivander," Harry supplied, "Harry Potter," he stated, catching the look of surprise that crossed the old wand makers face, before lowering his hood and lifting his head to lock his emerald green eyes with the pale ones of the wand maker. "I am here to search for my old wand," he stated, amused at the different expressions that crossed the usually unflappable old wizard.

"I am only telling you this because of the unusual place that my lack of a wand has placed me in," Harry began speaking before Ollivander could question him, "Just know that a Time Loop has been made, that my future is now my past so that the present can be a peaceful one." This short statement caught Ollivander's attention and the old wand maker quickly locked the door before looking at Harry once more.

"Since you have Albus Dumbledore's trust and we need your assistance, then you are the third person to know this information besides myself. Keep it hidden, for the future depends upon it," Harry finish with a serious expression.

"Of course, Mr. Potter," Ollivander answered with the most direct tone of voice that Harry had ever heard from the old wizard, "I assume that you are in a hurry. Could you tell me, which one is your wand?" he asked curiously.

Harry paused, knowing that his situation had been understood, "My wand, Mr. Ollivander," he started, locking eyes again with the old wizard, "is Voldemort's brother wand," he stated calmly, noticing the slight wince at the uttering of the name and then the widening of the eyes when the wand maker realized just what wand he was asking for.

"Of course, Mr. Potter," Ollivander whispered before going into the back of his shop, and reverently took out a very familiar box from the shelf. Slowly, the old wizard placed the thin box on the counter and lifted the lid, gesturing Harry toward the polished holly wand.

Without even a whisper of hesitation Harry confidently took his wand in his right hand and slashed it sideways, the shower of red and gold sparks coming out of the end as a familiar warmth spread across his body made a small smile stretch across his features. "Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," Harry whispered, placing the necessary galleons in the counter and pulling his hood up again as he tucked his wand into his flowing left sleeve.

Just as Harry was turning, the old wand maker stopped him, "And under what name and at what date should the wand be registered, Mr. Potter?" the wizard asked, making Harry smile his thanks.

"Today is my seventeenth birthday, Mr. Ollivander," Harry answered as he headed towards the door, not looking back, "and the wand should be registered under Alexander, sir," he paused before looking back, "Alexander Everard," and with that said, he unlocked the door and swept out of the small shop in a swirl of red robes.

-  
- o -  
-

Gringotts, as it where, the financial epicenter of the wizarding world was slightly empty, owing to the fact that it was not even nine o'clock in the morning and only a few shops were opened in the whole of Diagon Alley. At the moment only business owners and a few special costumers had anything to do with the Goblins. Therefore, when the tall figure in sweeping dark red robes entered confidently into the bank and headed without pause to the last teller in the middle of the hall, no one did more then spare him a glance.

The Goblins never even lifted their heads from their work of counting and accounting gold and jewels, and Alex, for his part, never wavered in the face of the Goblins usual disdain. "I am here to invoke the Right of Legacy," Alexander Everard stated firmly, ignoring the sneer that the Goblin sent his way for interrupting him and not even paused as he pulled a thick envelope from the fold of his robes and passed it to the growling Goblin.

The Goblin just scowled more, snatching the envelope without care, which produced an unseen raised silvery eyebrow from the hooded figure. What amused Alex the most was how quick the expression of the goblin blanked as he read the letter. The banker finally peered over the high counter at Alex's hooded head and nodded slightly before he snapped his fingers.

Not a second later a slightly shorter Goblin appeared behind the teller, "Tughack, please lead Mr. Alexander to Chief Axehand's office," the goblin said quietly, nodding at Alex to follow, as he noted with amusement how the Goblin refused to refer to him by his newly assumed last name until it was proved that he had a right to it.

"This way, sir," the small Goblin, Tughack, said, as he started walking to the back of the bank and towards one of the many doors there. Alex just followed, thinking of how the Headmaster should be doing and the surprise that the Ministry will get shortly after all the paperwork was filed in a few days and the fact that he claimed his inheritance was made public. He was vastly amused by what his imagination was conjuring up and let a small smile spread across his features as he followed the small Goblin down a particularly long corridor.

When the small Goblin stopped at the end of the hallway he opened the set of double doors that marked the end of the corridor and gestured him inside. Alex nodded his head slightly, "Thank you, Tughack," he directed at the goblin before sweeping in, only hearing a slight, _A pleasure, sir_, before the door was closed behind him.

"I am suspicious of you, wizard," a stately looking Goblin spoke from behind a tall oak desk, covered in silver designs, and not even looking up from the scroll he was reading, "but I will withhold judgment until I have proof that you are indeed who you claim to be," he stated before finally looking up at his hooded and cloaked form, "or not," he finished sneeringly.

Alex, simply raised his right hand and slowly lowered his hood, staring at the Chief Goblin before slowly striding forward into the office, his eyes cool as he sat down in a chair without invitation, "then let us proceed, Master Goblin, I have many more things to do after I claim my rightful title," he stated with authority, "and the faster I do them the more swift the strike of my existence will hit our dear Lord Voldemort," he finished calmly.

Chief Axehand blanched slightly at that statement but quickly composed himself. After all, if the legacy ring of the title that was being requested where to refuse Alexander, then serious injury was the lesser penalty that could be expected, after all, the importance of the inheritance held by the Everard family was well known, and many thought the line to have banished. Which begged the question, where did young Alexander come from?

Alex just watched curiously as the Chief Goblin, who he knew was third in command in the whole of Gringotts, shook his head slightly and stepped down from his desk, walking around the platform where the desk stood to stand in front of Alex, looking down at him.

"Very well," Axehand said, his face blank, "but you must understand Mr. Alexander, that the family that you claim the inheritance of is known to only hold one member, one Carmella Everard, age one hundred eighty seven. A widow with no other surviving family members and no offspring's to speak about. So excuse my reluctance to believe that you will be accepted by the legacy of that family and thus able to not only claim the name but also its heritage."

Alex just nodded slightly, a warm smile finally taking over his face as his emerald green eyes started sparkling once more, taking the Chief Goblin aback, if the slight widening of the eyes was anything to go by, "I understand your concerns, Master Goblin, but I have been authorized by the ruling Head and Matron of the family, Lady Carmella herself, to take the mantle of its legacy. I assure you, I understand the implications and I know that this particular legacy has been refused even to the majority of the Everard line, and though I will not be able to disclose the circumstances behind my acceptance once it is done, the fact that I have been allowed to attempt it is the only thing that should concern you at the moment. After all, death is the worse outcome of this specific venture and I will willingly face it and accept it if it does come to that, which I assure you," Alex paused, meeting the Chief Goblins' eyes with quiet confidence, "it will not."

Axehand just stared at Alex for a short couple of minutes, admiring his courage, but still a bit reluctant to go ahead with what was being requested. Finally though, he relented and took his eyes away from the sparkling, clear emerald green eyes of the powerful young wizard in front of him. If he was willing to take a risk, then so be it. The young man was confident enough; Never mind that only someone from the direct bloodline could claim that Legacy. Never mind the fact that it was impossible for someone of a secondary bloodline to do so while a member of the direct line was still alive. Never mind that Axehand knew with complete certainty that there was no one alive at the time who could successfully claim that title.

All of these things passed and where considered by the Chief Goblin, along with a dozen more, but then Alex just gave him another warm smile and nodded slightly, as if trying to confirm some of Axehand's own thoughts. Indeed, never mind that the next direct bloodline after the Everards where the Potters, where there was no wizard named Alexander even alive at the moment. If everything was successful, which the Chief Goblin doubted very much, and the title was claimed, then it would raise hell, and all the questions that came with it.

"Very well," Axehand finally said, going to his desk and picking up the blood written and enchanted letter of the current Head of the Everard family before gesturing Alexander to follow him. Alex just stood up and waited until the Chief Goblin walked over to the farthest wall of his office and lifted his right hand and pointed a finger to the middle of the wall.

Slowly, Axehand started to move his hand downward, his right index finger tracing an invincible line in the middle of the wall, until he stopped one quarter of the way and held his finger there for five seconds. Knowing what was to come, Alex waited until at the end of the five seconds the sound of an unknown number of mechanisms opening started to fill the office. The look of concentration in the old Goblins' face was intense, and Alex counted ten seconds before everything fell silent once more. But no more then a fraction of a moment later the snap of fingers drew his attention to Axehand. The next instant, the _Snap _and _Bang_ of the biggest lock known to the magical world being opened filled his ears.

But still the Chief Goblin continued, not loosing his concentration and not waiting for the echoes to die down as he kept tracing his finger down the wall once more. Alex's ears where still ringing and the echoes where still there as the sound of a second set of mechanisms started to fill the office; this one, the middle lock in the wall. Not saving his eardrums, and not worrying for the extreme sounds reverberating in the rather large office, Axehand snapped his fingers again and the second lock was opened with the loudest screech that Alex had ever heard, followed with two consecutive _Cracks_ that made his brains feel as if they where being processed. Indeed, Alex was so intent on keeping his balance in the midst of the cacophonous sounds that he almost missed the last snap of fingers and the resounding _Thump_ that indicated the disengaging of the last lock.

It was the low grinding sound of the wall seemingly splitting into three and rotating in its center axis as the middle sectioned opened that finally helped Alex focus. When he did however, even if his ears where still buzzing, he found himself being watched by a smirking Chief Goblin who just gestured him to follow into what was a mile long darkened corridor.

Darkness engulfed them as they entered into the tunnel and Alex heard the low grinding sound of the wall closing behind them. This time, tough, the three main locks stayed open until they returned. Leisurely, or slowly in Alex's mind, since it was only leisurely to the Goblins' short legs, they made their way through the hallway, illuminated only by a small orb of light held aloft in Axehand's palm. Alex used the slow walk to clear his mind and try to focus once more, as it seamed that the unlocking of the door had addled his brains. Still, it took almost the whole of ten minutes to walk the mile long corridor where Axehand just snapped his fingers a dozen times in what sounded like a predetermined pattern making an archway appear.

As they stepped inside, Alex blinked at the sudden light and waited a moment until his vision adjusted. They where in a small circular antechamber with a Goblin high, round podium in the center. Without a word, and with a silent glance at Alex, the Chief Goblin strode forward and placed the letter face down in the pillar. Light seamed to spring from the marble where the letter was placed in a circular beam that reached the ceiling. Slowly, Alex saw how the blood letters, in witch the communication had been written, where burned off by the light until the lettering of the parchment appeared to have been carved onto the paper.

If anyone where to ask his opinion of the proceedings Alex would have said that it looked as if the light had read the communication by removing the blood lettering.

Soon, and without warning, when the signature of Lady Carmella Everard was finally removed from the parchment, the paper itself was flattened by a long marble column that dropped from the ceiling and smashed the pillar into the ground with a high grating sound. No dust was lifted and neither the pillar nor the podium suffered any damage. It just looked like they had melded together and the column itself had been there all along.

Alex, however, did not show any surprise and waited a few seconds until he saw a new door open; located on the opposite side of the door they came through at first.

"You have been granted access, Mr. Alexander," Chief Goblin Axehand said in a slightly grating, formal voice, "please proceed and declare your intentions to claim the Everard name and the Gryffindor Legacy."

Nodding once, Alex smiled at the Goblin once more before straightening himself to his full height, pushing his long hair towards his back with his left hand, where his runes and the white Hogwarts crest flashed for a moment, before once again being covered with the dark red sleeves, and stepped through the doorway and into a large circular room with a domed ceiling.

Without looking back, Alex stepped in the center of the room and felt, more then saw, the door behind him sealing shut and melding with the smooth circular walls of the room. As soon as he became still, the edges of the room started to move as the floor, about five feet from the border, seamed to sink and form three concentrically placed circles with runes carved all along its circumference. Knowing that this was it and distractedly noting that it was ten o'clock, Alex did as the Headmaster had told him and released his magic.

His robes started swaying gently, his cloak flapped lightly and his eyes started to glow an eerie emerald green. The three, twenty inch thick circles of runes and stone, began moving against each other until a constant buzz of the stone grating against each other filled the room. Formally, reverently, and with full confidence, Alex finally spoke, his voice low, gentle, but conveying more power then could be thought imaginable.

"I, Harry James Potter, Child of Fate and Victim of Destiny do hear by claim Lordship of the Everard Line and the Legacy that it holds." Slowly, the concentric bands of runes stated quivering in the edges of the room and moved from their horizontal position, rising a few inches in the first full revolution and a few more in the next, until they completely lifted from the ground and lightly made a complete sweep of the domed ceiling, before rotating completely once and again. "I, Alexander Prius Everard, place myself before you; in a junction of my past, my present and my future. I wish to claim permanence with this new identity until the end of my current existence."

For all intent and purposes, and if Alex hadn't known about magic, he would have thought that the three giant rings swept under the ground as well during their giant orbits. The three bands of stone started to accelerate until the previous buzz of the grating stone was more of a sharp whistle than anything else. "By my magic, I call for your acceptance," Alex continued, unfazed by what was happening around him as some of the runes inside of the moving circles started to glow a deep gold. "By my blood, I ask for your recognition," he said, and a strong wind seamed to pick up as more runes began to shine red, "By my very being I demand that you grant me my Legacy," he finished, his voice unchanged as the rest of the runes in the rapidly gyrating circles turned a brilliant white.

Faster and faster, the rings turned until you could not differentiate one from the other, and all the runes and their glow seamed to mix into a random spiral of colors and patterns. And as everything reached a magical crescendo and the winds seamed to reach unsurpassable strength a whispered voice reached Alex's ears, as powerful and ancient as magic itself, _"Harry James Potter, Child of Time,"_ the whispered voice called as it gained volume and the patterns seamed to change before his eyes, _"You have been accepted as Alexander Prius Everard," _it affirmed with great authority, _"You have been recognized as Lord of the Line,"_ it declared as the whistling of the rings grew in pitch, _"You will be granted your Legacy, Heir of Gryffindor, Master of Hogwarts,"_ it acknowledged, as the whole room flashed with a bright light, _"So shall it be until the end of your task, so shall it be until the conclusion of this stage of your life."_

Silence greeted Alex as his vision cleared. The room seamed to have regained its previous state, yet no sound had been made as the rotating rings had settled, no sign that anything had happened could be seen, until, that was, he turned to the right and found a small square door opened in the circular wall, much like the door of a small safe. Slowly Alex made his way to the small cavity and smiled at what he saw within.

It was ten twenty nine in the morning.

-  
- o -  
-

Grand Sorcerer Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; Order of Merlin, First Class; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and probably the most respected wizard currently alive was having a rater amusing day. After all, it was not every day that one planned to surprise so many witches and wizards at once.

So as he patiently waited inside one of the lifts in the Ministry of Magic, on his way to the Atrium, he could not help but hum under his breath. He was entitled to feel satisfied; everything had gone according to plan without anyone being the wiser. It would take at least a week for everything to be acknowledged and arranged by the different department heads before they had to contact Gringotts to ask for confirmation. By the time that the Goblins retuned the authorized documentation to the Ministry, which Harry, or he assumed it was _Alex _now, would have instructed to the Goblins to hold until all the paperwork was completed before sending it to the Mistress of Magic, Millicent Bagnold, for final signing, everything else would be in place and the moment that all the different documents came together with the official declaration signed by Alex, well, it would be an interesting session of the Wizengamot, to be sure. After all, dismantling the centuries-old Board of Hogwarts Governors had to be a delicate process. It would certainly be a grand surprise for those in the board who wanted nothing more then the power and sway that the position held.

Yes, the Headmaster was very happy at the moment. With every certainty that all was going as planned, he popped a lemon drop in his mouth and reached a fireplace in the Atrium. It was almost noon and time to compare notes with his young friend and ask how his own adventures had developed this morning. It was with that thought in mind that Albus Dumbledore was swept away in a blaze of green flames.

-  
- o -  
-

Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall was supervising the Quill as it addressed one letter after the other in flowing Red and Gold script. Just the sight of it brought a smile to her face, for it had been long since an Heir of Gryffindor had been acknowledged, centuries in fact. And now, after so much time, Hogwarts once again congregated under the banner of the lion. Pride was a small word in comparison to what she was feeling at the moment. After all, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and even Hufflepuff for a few years, had held the most recognition in the past two hundred years or more. At that moment, she thought that it was time that the golden lions be recognized once again; not for their brashness, but for their honor; not for their insolence, but for their courage.

However, before her mind could get away with her, the Transfiguration Professor's attention was caught by some movement on the other side of the office. Immediately she noticed that the portrait of the previous Headmaster Fortescue that hanged in her office was occupied by the red-nosed wizard himself. Quickly she strode closer, "has the Headmaster arrived?" she asked immediately, taking Alexander Everard's letter and placing it in one of her robes pockets.

"Indeed, Professor, the Headmaster just came in through the Floo, should I tell him that you are on your way, dear?" he asked, already ready to move to his other portrait.

"Yes, Ben, please inform him that I will be there shortly," she told the old portrait before making her way towards the Headmasters office, after all, she had to bring this to his attention if he didn't know already. At this thought, she doubled her steps and quickly melted into her animagus form of a cat, making her way swiftly to her destination, which only took a few moments. When she reached the Gargoyle, she seamlessly changed into her human form without missing a step, saying the password and ascending the stairs without pause.

As soon as she reached the landing she took a slight breath and composed herself before knocking, entering when the muffled _come in_, reached her ears. What she found made her stop and blink, for the Headmaster was wearing one of the most serious robes she had ever seen him wear, which usually meant that something of grave importance was afoot, and yet the whole effect was broken by his very merry _humming_. The sight left her a bit confused and more then somewhat curious.

"Ah! Minerva, what a delightful surprise," the Headmaster said as he finished signing some parchments and looked up from his desk, "do come in, my dear, take a seat," he gestured, "Fortescue told me that you have been searching for me since early this morning."

"Yes, Albus," McGonagall quickly took the offered seat before searching for the addressed letter in one of her pockets, silently placing it in the desk as her only explanation. The Headmaster just peered at her from atop his half-moon spectacles before gathering the letter. As soon as he saw it a smile blossomed on his face and his eyes began twinkling more then the Transfiguration Professor could recount.

"Marvelous!" the old sorcerer exclaimed as the letter confirmed Alex's success. "Tell me, Minerva, when did this happen?"

"At exactly ten thirty this morning. But, is it true, Albus? I thought that line to be almost extinct," McGonagall asked, curious.

"Oh no my dear," Dumbledore answered, following the story that they had concocted in the past two weeks, a story that had all the documentation to back it up, and could not be refuted now that Alex had claimed both the Lordship of the line and the Legacy that accompanied it, "it seams that old Lady Carmella was not the last of that line, as we all assumed. After her whole family was killed by Grindelwald leaving her as the last survivor of the direct line, she did not give up as we all thought she had. Indeed, she just started searching for the perfect candidate to bear the next heir for the Everard line," he said, pausing to let this sink in.

"You mean to say…?" was McGonagall's surprised inquisition; at this Dumbledore just nodded slowly making the Professor gasp in surprise.

"Exactly," Dumbledore answered empathically, "she found a witch that fit into her very high standards some seventeen years ago and performed the _Ortus Ceremony_, moving outside of England at the time so that the child would not be registered in our records when he was conceived, and later born, making us and any who wished for the demise of the line, unaware that he even existed, until now."

"When the child turned seventeen and had the right to claim his inheritance," McGonagall finished, understanding the situation, "but how was old Carmella able to achieve this without anyone's knowledge?"

"Her age and eccentricities, along with her solitary status where all the cover that she needed, Minerva," the Headmaster responded, his eyes twinkling merrily, "her many travels and her long absences from British soil, which we mistook for flights of fancy, along with her rather obstinate refusal for any company, gave her most of the cover that she desired, and her extreme age covered for any other discrepancies; After all, who would believe that she was raising a child, or more precisely, an Heir?" Dumbledore chuckled.

"Indeed," McGonagall, pausing in thought, a suspicious look covering her features, "and how is it that you know all of this, Albus?" She asked.

"Simple, my dear Professor McGonagall, I have already met the young man, and I must say that he is truly remarkable!" He expressed.

"And how is…?" She was asking but was interrupted as the unmistakable sound of the Floo Network activating drew her attention. Looking at the grate she saw a tall hooded figure, unfold from the fireplace, a trunk in his right hand, and step gracefully out, not a trace of soot or dust covering his cloak or robes.

However, that was not what caught her attention the most. What caught her attention was the Everard family ring on his right middle finger, clear for all to see as he held the Mahogany trunk with ease. However, she did not have the time to look at it more closely since the sleeve of his cloak quickly covered it.

"Greetings, Headmaster Dumbledore," a smooth, warm voice caught the Deputies attention as the young wizard lowered his hood with his left hand, making the runes there plainly visible for the Transfiguration Professor, even if it was just a quick look due to the sleeves covering his hand, again, like they had done with the ring. "Greetings, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall," he acknowledged with a nod before turning his green gaze to the old sorcerer once again, surprising the old witch with both the grace with which he carried himself and the sparkle in he very bright green eyes, "I am sorry that I cannot stay and chat at the moment, sir, but there are some delicate items that I should unpack with all due haste," he explained, gesturing slightly at the trunk.

"Of course, my boy," Dumbledore answered, smiling at the young wizard, "will I see you at lunch then?" the Headmaster asked, smiling at the white haired youth when he received a nod, "Splendid! Then off you go," he gestured to the door, shooing the teen towards the door, "We will have lunch in the chambers off of the Great Hall in half an hour. I am sure that a better introduction could be made at that time," he said, his eyes twinkling a bit brighter, "and if you need anything just call for Tanny, she is a most remarkable elf."

Alex just smiled warmly at the happy old man, "Of course, sir, thank you," he said, his eyes sparkling, "Professor McGonagall," he smiled at the old witch, "it was a pleasure," he said with a nod, before turning swiftly and leaving in a swirl of dark red.

"Albus, was that…?" Minerva McGonagall asked, slightly dazed by the polite young wizard; those where very rare, after all.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore answered without pause, "that was Alexander Prius Everard, Lord of House Everard, Heir of Gryffindor, Lord of this Castle," he paused and picked up the letter that had been placed in his desk, "and one of our seventh year students, but you already knew that, I think," he observed lightly.

As he looked across his desk, he just smiled, "It will be an interesting year, if I do say so myself," he commented with amusement as he watched the stunned expression of one of his most trusted friends as he told all the titles that the young wizard held; after all, it was practically impossible to leave the old professor speechless; to stun her for a second, surprise her or shock her momentarily happened once every few years; But to leave her truly wordless like at this very moment happened only once every few decades.

It made for a priceless memory.

* * *

_**To be continued…**_


	4. Master of Hogwarts

_**Disclaimer:**_ Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series are the property of J.K. Rowling, and various publishers: including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by the writing of this story.

_**A/N: **_Well, I'll start off by apologizing for taking so long in updating this story, but then, life has a way of taking up most of my time and leaving me with little opportunity to peruse any hobbies. Alas, we can only hope that the next chapter doesn't take as long as this one, huh? In any case, do enjoy this new installment and leave a few thoughts behind if you can, eh?

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Chapter Four  
**Master of Hogwarts**

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The walls of the old castle seemed to welcome him as he walked through its well worn paths and halls, making him smile warmly as he caressed and pressed his left hand upon the stones whenever he could. The shimmering runes on his fingertips and on top of his hand warmed at every touch, even as the future presence of Hogwarts stirred and hummed within him. Recognizing him as hers, the current spirit of the school acknowledged him as her child while the ring in his right hand lit up in response, looking as if a small star was poised upon his middle finger do to its brilliance. 

The Heir of Gryffindor once again walked within these ancient halls.

Long had that particular legacy escaped the wizarding world, waiting for someone worthy enough to carry such responsibility; waiting for a descendant of the first Headmaster of Hogwarts to bear the qualities and character that he believed should mark an Heir of his line. For the amount of responsibly obtained when entrusted with the care of this castle was too much for only one person to bear, or at least, it would be too overwhelming to any who did not hold the inner strength necessary for such a responsibility.

Many were the qualities and traits that Godric Gryffindor himself placed the most value on, but they were not the only things that he required for an heir who would carry such a task. He knew that he was flawed, but he was too stubborn to admit it to anyone but himself. Thus, with the help of his fellow friends and founders, Godric established the administrative system that stood until this day and governed Hogwarts as fairly as possible, until the day that one of his heirs rose to take the position and structured a new system to take the place of the old one. He knew that with time came change, and he planned for the future by leaving a ring to choose those who would bring about that change. Having used one of his family's lands and funding the modification of the castle that once stood there, as well as ensuring the protections of the school, his line was the one entrusted with the permanence of the school's legacy, and he made sure that only those worthy within his line could ever fully control the school and thus make any changes necessary to the castle and its system.

Ravenclaw devised the modifications and enchantments that would turn the old Gryffindor fort into a school of witchcraft and wizardry, whilst Hufflepuff, ever one to seek for equality and fairness, while remaining loyal to her friends, proposed the creation of the Houses, bringing temporary peace between the founders. Slytherin, with his high ambitions, formed the structured education that is the basis for the modern system, being the first to introduce the division of the subjects and classes to better suit a greater mass of wizarding students. This was the first step, and by the division of the core wizarding subjects, apprenticeships and their incomplete knowledge quickly became a thing of the past as young witches and wizards all gained a more complete education.

Hogwarts became the example that everyone followed, and in the coming centuries schools of magic and learning displaced the old methods of education, where the knowledge each family gained was passed down from one generation to the next.

So it was, that as Godric watched his beloved school grow and blossom, becoming the beacon of knowledge and hope for generations to come, and after establishing the Headmasters position, which he himself occupied at the time, and along with the other founders, who helped in overseeing the administrative functions of the school and the education of the students, did he set out to find a way to select those of his line that were capable enough to lead the school and its legacy.

The seeds of an idea were planted when Helga suggested that a new method for sorting the students had to be found, since more attended the school each year and personal interviews with the four of them would begin to take more and more time. So it was that when he took his hat from atop his head and bewitched it along with his other friends and founders so that it might place the arriving students into their new houses according to what they prized the most, did that seed take root. He made a new ring for those of his line and enchanted it so that it would choose from within his descendants and picked those worthy of the full legacy of the school; Linking the ring with the Sorting Hat, and the faint presence that they had instilled within the walls of the school to control the wards and protections, tasked with the safety of the students.

So it was that only one from his most direct line who would fulfill four requirements would have complete control over Hogwarts again; he of Godric's own blood, who was judged a Gryffindor by Gryffindor's Hat; he who Hogwarts herself deemed worthy to rule her, and received the schools mark; he who had not only courage, but conning, intelligence and loyalty; he who was judged my magic itself as an able recipient of his legacy. Godric tied these conditions to the ring and enchanted it to follow his line for perpetuity so that if there where ever one who fulfilled all four of these things, then he would be his Heir, Lord and Master of Hogwarts…

Shaking his head, Alex dispelled these thoughts from his mind as he reached the rooms where he would be staying for the rest of the summer. Hogwarts herself had shared that knowledge with him when he first arrived at the Headmasters office, and because of that information did Dumbledore choose to contact the last member of the Everard line, knowing that Harry fit all of the criteria that Godric placed upon the legacy of Hogwarts. The only problem was that magic itself allowed it. But it was a risk Harry had been willing to take, a risk that was still paying off.

Looking at the ring on his right hand after he placed his trunk at the foot of his four poster bed, Alex could not help but admire it. It was made of gold with silver runes and a large white stone with a gold lion inlaid within it, bearing such an intrinsically detail design that he could almost swear he saw the lions mane swaying in a gentle, nonexistent breeze. On the right side of the stone, a smaller deep blue sapphire stood, bearing the Everard crest. He knew that in his own time, Gryffindor's ring would have taken residence within the Potter signet, and if Godric's bloodline was ever ended, then the ring would select a new family to follow, one that closely followed the founder's beliefs.

His desire to see the Potter ring could well become a dream that would never be fulfilled.

Taking a small breath, Alex concentrated slightly and before his eyes, the sapphire began to enlarge as the brilliant white stone diminished, even as the silver runes disappeared within the gold and Latin words scrolled across the surface of the band, leaving the Everard family motto clear to see. _Lux et veritas_. Light and Truth.

Still, he had promised to uphold the Everard name to Lady Carmella, and he planned to do just that.

This was the Everard family ring, the one that McGonagall saw in the Headmasters office, since Gryffindor's ring had become prominent whist he walked through the school. Shaking his head he pulled out his wand and opened the third and final compartment of his trunk, swishing his wand and directing a few items out of the mahogany chest and returning them to their proper size before the spells keeping them reduced wore off. While for other things, he called the house elf Tanny as Dumbledore suggested, and charged her with storing them.

Nodding to himself, he quickly unpacked a few volatile items and placed them in their proper places, which the Headmaster had thankfully provided, before stowing his wand and heading toward the Great Hall.

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"Are you certain, Albus?" McGonagall asked the Headmaster when she finally recovered her wits as they made their way toward the Great Halls side chamber, "what exactly did you mean?"

Albus Dumbledore just glanced at his Deputy from atop his half-moon spectacles, stopping in mid tune, "What, may I ask, are you referring to, Minerva?" he asked, almost certain of what she was referring to, but knowing that making assumptions could be a dangerous thing.

"I am speaking of how you referred to him as the Lord of this Castle," she clarified, knowing through years of experience that humoring the old sorcerer was the best way to get straight answers, or at least mildly vague answers instead of completely cryptic ones.

His eyes twinkling brightly, the Headmaster resumed his humming, making it appear as if he was mulling over how to answer that particular question. Pushing his half-moon spectacles up his crooked nose, he stopped beside a door and opened it, gesturing his Deputy into the Great Hall's side chamber, where a dining table had been placed. As they took their seats, Dumbledore stapled his fingers and leant back into his chair, looking at the Transfiguration professor for a few moments before speaking, "when was the last time that an Heir of Gryffindor has walked these halls, Minerva?"

Again, knowing that humoring him was the best way to get information, she answered, looking pensive, "approximately five hundred years ago, give and take half a century or so, but I don't recall the date with any accuracy. I would have to research the information to give you a better answer."

"Excellent," the Headmaster stated, "for the sake of this conversation, that vague assessment is more than appropriate. Now, how about the acknowledged heirs of the other four founders?" he asked.

Slightly puzzled by this question, she none the less answered, "The last descendant from the founders that entered Hogwarts was the Heir of Slytherin," she stated, shivering slightly from a past memory before continuing, "and that was some forty years past." She paused, "before Him, an Heir of Ravenclaw come to Hogwarts not fifteen years earlier, and a Hufflepuff Heir, no more then twenty years before that," she continued before understanding crossed her eyes and she focused her attention on the smiling sorcerer, "But why has there been an Heir of the other thee founders every couple of decades, or more often then that, but there has only been one Heir of Gryffindor since Godric himself?"

"That, my dear, is where young Mr. Everard comes into the picture," he spoke; his blue eyes alight with the excitement he often experienced when sharing a particularly interesting story. "You see, Minerva, the Gryffindor title itself wields a great deal of power within Hogwarts, and to be recognized as an Heir of Gryffindor requires very specific requirements to be met, requirements that are extremely hard to find in any one person."

Pausing, the Headmaster looked at his Deputy from above his half-moon spectacles, "Alexander has met those requirements today and has been acknowledged as Lord Gryffindor, direct Heir of Godric himself and Master of this Castle; Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Knowing from experience about Dumbledore's teaching methods and how he still used them, even with the staff, she paused to process the things that the Headmaster has said and organized her questions accordingly, starting with the general and working her way towards the specific. Knowledge, after all, if gained in a structured setting was more easily understood. "And what are these requirements then?" she asked, knowing that asking questions about young Mr. Everard would just be confusing without any background information.

Dumbledore just nodded his head in acknowledgement of the question before placing his hands in his lap, his eyes still twinkling more then usual, "You know that each of the founders had different ways to distinguish those that would be recognized as their Heirs; though they shared the requirement that they be of their blood and from their direct line, each, like with their houses, selected different aspects within their line that when fulfilled, it would mark them as their true descendants. Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff's requirements are the most easily fulfilled within their lines, as they just required a certain amount of intellect for the Ravenclaw Heir or a certain work ethic for the Hufflepuff Heir. Maybe they need only be sorted into their respective houses to be recognized.

"When it comes to Salazar Slytherin, although it is not certain, I believe that apart from his blood, the gift of _Parseltongue_ needs to be present for an Heir to be recognized, and then, only those who have the gift and prove their heritage within Hogwarts are ever acknowledged. How, I am not at all certain. Alas, I have just come across this information and certain other facts that would have pointed towards Tom Riddle as that Heir, and thus saved Hagrid from his wrongful accusations, but it was not to be at that particular time," he said with a sigh as silence engulfed them and each turned to their thoughts.

If Minerva remembered correctly, even though they knew that the Heir of Slytherin had been recognized and was a student within the Castle, thanks to the fact that the Hogwarts Quill had turned green and silver, there still remained the fact that it was the middle of the school year and Riddle was already in his fourth year. The Chamber of Secrets was opened during the boy's fifth year, and by then no one had stepped up to claim the mantle as the Snake Handler's Heir. No one could even guess who the Heir was by then, and thus the blame was shifted toward Hagrid and his pet Acromantula, since even now, no one knew what the alleged monster within the legendary Chamber was…

Shifting her attention back toward the Headmaster, she asked that which remained unanswered in his explanation. "And what are the requirements needed to be recognized as Godric's Heir, then, Albus?"

The Headmaster just looked at her for a moment before answering, "That, my dear, is slightly complicated. The difference between the other founders and Gryffindor is that this entire Castle and its grounds used to be Griffin's Fortress, and as such, it did and still belongs to those of his line. However, his love for this school and his desire to protect it was such that Godric denied his own line, his own family, the control of this School unless they fulfilled his set requirements," he explained and stalled her questioning of this with a gesture. "Don't misunderstand either, Minerva, Gryffindor left his family a great deal of wealth and property, but he refused to give those unworthy within his line the benefit to control this school, and as such, only those who are truly worthy, only those who could prove themselves and fulfill his requirements can bear the mantle of the Heir of Gryffindor."

Astonished, Minerva McGonagall could only watch the Headmaster in fascination, "and yet, until now, only one person within his bloodline has claimed that title?"

Nodding gravely, the Headmaster continued his explanations, "Indeed, for he who was recognized and bared the title of his Heir would have control over this Castle and its grounds, its protection, the children and their educations, along with the administrative power that only Godric himself once had. Until now, Hogwarts was run by the Board of Governors and the Headmaster, with only slight interference from the Ministry of Magic. But with an acknowledged Heir of Gryffindor in existence, Hogwarts can be once again considered private property, and thus subjected to only the will of its Lord and the owner of its lands."

With a gasp at what the Headmaster was saying, she started to worry slightly about the future of the school and its students, now that a boy, no younger than seventeen was in charge of it. The implications of these turn of events were enormous, and the impact in Wizarding Britain would be even more so. For everyone knew the value of the millennia old school. Just as Gringotts was the keeper and guardians of the past, and the Ministry the surveyors of the present, so was Hogwarts the nurturer of the future.

However, before her mind could take her down to a road filled with worries, the sound of a chuckling headmaster brought her back to reality, and her worries spilled as she lashed out. "Really, Albus, how can you be so calm?" she asked in agitation, "We are at war! How can you be so calm when the future of Hogwarts rests in the hands of a boy? How can you be so composed when uncertainty such as this is all around us? For Merlin's sake, a child now supersedes your authority and he is still a student. How can you laugh? You know how teenagers are, they…"

Her outburst, though, was interrupted when a new voice filled the room; a voice that made the eyes of one, Albus Dumbledore, twinkle like never before; a voice that was smooth as silk and as soft as velvet, and at the same time as warm as a sweet summers day and as comforting a cup of warm chocolate. Startled, she looked towards its source and found the tall form of Alexander Everard standing in the doorway, his hand still in the doorknob and a slight smile in his features. His vivid green eyes sparkled as much as the Headmasters twinkled and his braided, stark-white, silvery hair pooled on his left shoulder before falling down his front.

"Excuse me, Professor McGonagall," were the words that had interrupted her during her rather rare rant at the Headmaster. Taking a small breath, she quickly composed herself and pursed her lips, giving all of her attention to the young man standing in the doorway. She nodded to him in acknowledgement, which he returned, "Excuse me if I am interrupting, but I believe that I can ease most of your worries."

He paused and raised his right hand as she made to speak once more, "I assure you that the last thing that I would use my authority for would be for frivolous reasons, Deputy Headmistress, which I'm sure that the Headmaster would have explained sooner or later," he started into the room, taking care to close the door, his voice never being raised from its soft tones, "This ring, and the title that comes with it," he explained, as the blue stone of his family ring receded and the white shining stone of Gryffindor's Legacy surfaced, shining brightly, "is not granted to anyone who is not judged ready to hold the responsibilities that come with it," he continued, even as he made his way slowly to the seat at the right of Dumbledore and the shining white stone began to diminish in brightness, "for only those deemed worthy of it can wear it. Four requirements there are for an Heir of Gryffindor to be selected, and only when those requirements are met can this ring be worn without the penalty of death."

Relaxing slightly in the presence of the mature young man, the frown of disapproval that adorned her face slowly melted away with his explanations and assurances. She did not know how or why, but his mere presence exuded a warmth and safety that put her at ease, much more so then even the Headmasters' aura, which puzzled her. Leaving her questions on that subject for a later date, she settled down as a few appetizers appeared on the table and the three of them stayed silent for a few moments. It was then that Minerva realized that the white stone on the silver and gold ring of Gryffindor was only glowing slightly instead of the almost blinding light that it showed when it first surfaced as Alexander entered the room.

And as she calmed down more with each passing moment, she noticed how the room literally hummed because of the young wizard's presence. The castle was _happy_, for lack of a better word, and more alert then she had ever remember it being. If Minerva were to put it into words, she thought that she could almost feel as if Hogwarts was awakening from a very long slumber and smiling down upon them, and whilst earlier that day the halls and walls of the old Castle seemed to radiate a welcoming warmth, now it seemed as if it was focusing; If there was ever a doubt that the School was sentient, they were now firmly squashed.

A soft chuckle brought her out of her thoughts and her attention was soon changed toward the direction of the disturbance, where she found the Headmaster looking at young Alexander with a look of slight wonder. When she followed the stare, she saw that the young wizard had his eyes closed and was caressing the table with the tips of his fingers, even as small straight beams of light moved across the Gryffindor Ring and touched the walls and ceiling of the dining room. "It seems that Hogwarts is focusing its magic," Dumbledore spoke at last.

What surprised her was the answer that came from young Alexander's lips, "More then that, Headmaster; Hogwarts is awakening and yearns to be cleansed, it wishes for me to finally claim Lordship over it so that it might function fully once more," he explained, leaving it at that. Sitting back in his chair, the young wizard just closed his eyes for a few moments before the feeling and presence of Hogwarts receded. "In any case, I'm sure that Professor McGonagall still has many questions on her mind since you seem to like telling stories and answering in riddles better, right Headmaster?" he asked, his eyes sparkling slightly.

"Of course, my boy," Dumbledore answered lightly, "but I must blame such habits on my old age. After all, as we grow older we become increasingly fond of telling stories of the past."

"Yes, of course, Headmaster," Alex responded in kind, "but we the young have yet to achieve such extreme levels of patience as those gifted to our elders, so I will go with how my age dictates I act and be direct and to the point," he said, turning to a fascinated looking Minerva, "or would you rather the Headmaster continue his explanations, Professor McGonagall?"

Shaking her head slightly and focusing on the young man in front of her once more, since it's not every day that you see the venerable Headmaster of Hogwarts talk with anyone on equal footing, she managed to smile slightly at him, a twitch of the lips, as she answered, "as long as the situation is explained suitably, I do not really mind who is giving them."

Her diplomatic answer garnered a full blown lopsided smile from the boy, and she had to blink at seeing how much younger he looked with that expression. "Then I would gladly explain what I can if I could only know what started this discussion. After all, as Deputy Headmistress of this School, you have as much right as the Headmaster to know what has happened, and what _will_ happen in regards to this Castle, its grounds and its students. Wouldn't you say so, Professor Dumbledore?"

The old sorcerer just chuckled and lightly clapped his hands, signaling for the House Elves to serve lunch. "Of course, but why don't we continue this discussion after we tuck in, then? After all, I'm sure you're famished following your busy morning, my boy."

Shaking his head, Alex just served himself a bit of everything on the table and tucked in, knowing that Dumbledore liked prolonging things. He assumed that it was one of those things that come with great age. So after a few bites of the delicious food and a few drinks out of his goblet full of pumpkin juice, he completely ignored the old coot and focused his complete attention on the Deputy Headmistress, knowing just by her pursed lips that she was mildly irritated, after all, they did say that curiosity killed the cat; "So, Professor McGonagall, if I may inquire into the nature of your discussion previous to my arrival?" he question lightly, taking another bite from his plate, and looking politely curious, completely disregarding the Headmasters attempt to keep McGonagall in the dark for as long as possible.

She simply looked at the young man seated across from her and her lips twitched slightly, knowing full well what he was doing. Even if his face was blank, his eyes were sparkling with mischief. And from the way the Headmasters eyes twinkled, she was sure that there was some kind of joke between the two of them. Still, she was quite curious, so once again she enquired on the requirements needed to be worthy of the Gryffindor Legacy.

By the time he finished explaining, lunch had already passed and they each had a cup of tea in hand, discussing the history of Hogwarts and Gryffindor in particular. She was more then awed at the fact that someone so young could fulfill such requirements, knowing now that the last Heir of Gryffindor was not acknowledged until he was well above thirty years old. Still, the more the conversation progressed the more she was convinced that it was not a fluke. The boy was truly remarkable, and mature well beyond his years, as if he had lived and been tempered by a very hard life.

When she examined the schools mark; made of miniscule runes in the shape of the Hogwarts crest upon his left hand, she could actually feel the magic of the castle flowing through it, as if a tight glove or a second skin were covering the young mans flesh. All in all, she ended up both satisfied and accepting of the young wizard, knowing instinctively that the school could not ask for a better master.

Still, there were questions that she had to ask, now that she knew that the school wouldn't fall under the care of an irresponsible youngster. "And what are your plans for Hogwarts, Mr. Everard?"

Tilting his head, Alexander took a sip of tea before answering, "At the moment, Professor McGonagall, my only actions regarding the school is to awaken it and its defenses to its full capability. After all, it's been centuries since her slumber has been interrupted and with a war being waged outside these walls, it would be better that she take an active role in protecting her children."

The walls practically glowed at this statement, and knowing how formidable the protections of Hogwarts were, she wondered just how strong they would be when raised to their full potential.

"After the safety of the school is assured, then we will worry about the rest," the young wizard continued. "That, in and of itself will free many of the responsibilities from the Headmaster, as I will be taking charge of the castle and its magic, allowing more freedom for Professor Dumbledore to take care of most of the duties that would have fallen on the laps of the Board of Governors." He sighed slightly, looking slightly regretful, "for this, I would like to apologize, Professor McGonagall, since you will find your own administrative duties will became far more strenuous until a new system can be implemented."

Raising an eyebrow at that, she turned to the Headmaster, "And what has happened to the Board of Governors?"

"Ah, my dear, the correct question is what _will_ happen to them," the Headmaster admonished slightly, good humor practically pouring out of his aged features, "Young Alexander and myself have filed all of the paperwork necessary to remove both the Board of Governors power over the school and what little influence the Ministry of Magic has over us, effective within one week from today, when all of the approved paperwork will surface all at once."

A small smile crept upon her lips at that thought, knowing how much freedom that would give them, even if her own personal workload will practically double because of it. As she saw it, the benefits far outweighed the consequences. If she were to guess correctly, she would guess that young Alexander had fully claimed his rights to the School; rights that had before been decided between the Governors and the Ministry, and claimed full legal lordship over the Castle and its Grounds. More then anything, it meant that the Ministry lost all its jurisdiction within the educational system of Britain, and the only connection it would retain with Hogwarts would be through the Wizarding Examinations Authority who were not a part of the Ministry themselves. She was sure that there were other advantages to this, but for her, this one was the greatest of them.

Clearing her thoughts she turned toward Alexander when he spoke, "Once the Board of Governors is dissolved, I will step in and take over the management of the School's Budget, which the Board had control over, and its Magic, which the Headmaster still controls until later today," he explained, "The Headmaster will take full control over the Hogwarts Staff and all that it entails, which was previously mostly handled by the Board. This, along with the rest of the administrative and educational work will be divided between yourself and the Headmaster, ma'am. This following week, while I take over control of the School's Defenses and cleanse them, strengthen and stabilize them, I will be removing the Curse upon the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, amongst other things. In the meantime, I suggest that you both prepare for your extra duties and think about how to enhance the curriculum. After all, there is nothing to prevent you from changing it, is there?" he asked with a smile.

She nodded distractedly, already thinking of all the things that they had wanted to do that the Board of Governors had denied them; all the programs that had been turned down, along with a few changes in the staff that had not been accepted because of 'Monetary Problems,' as they put it. Such as hiring a new History Professor because having a Ghost teaching it meant that the expenses were lessened, along with having a squib as a caretaker instead of fully trained wizard because Filch only required the absolute minimum salary were just a few things on the top of her head. The Dueling Program could once again be made, if they found a good Defense Professor, and there were a couple of electives that had been disposed of by the Board that could be reinstated—

She took a steadying breath. Goodness. There was so much to do! True, they had a complete month before the start of the next term, but it was enough time to change some very significant things.

"I see you understand, Minerva," Dumbledore spoke up after taking a sip of tea, "of course; the division of responsibilities between us is still not completely decided. The only thing certain at the moment is Alexander's role in all of this, since one way or another he will need to take over the Magic and Protections of the Castle and its Grounds, as is his duty, along with the administration of the School's vaults and funds. As I see it, we now have one week to prepare before the Board of Governors is dissolved and we need to divide our own responsibilities. Till then, we must make plans and arrangements to ease the transition, along with discussing the rest of the administrative and educational aspects that will arise."

"Of course," she responded, knowing that the Headmaster was probably thinking about all the changes that could be made within the school as well. "We should probably review all of the staff and prepare a notice for the Prophet about any new positions that might need to be filled along with any positions that might benefit with a replacement."

"Too true, my dear, but we have other pressing matters to attend to first," the Headmaster agreed amiably before turning toward the white-haired young wizard, "Alexander, when will you be taking over the Magic of the Castle?" he inquired just as the table was finally cleared.

"As soon as possible, Professor, but there are a few things that I need to ask beforehand, along with a couple of requests," he answered, lowering his cup of tea.

And as the Headmaster and Alexander Everard discussed what would be taking place just a few hours from now, and the preparations necessary for everything to go smoothly, Minerva wondered just much things would change; for even she knew that change was inevitable. Still, it was rare within the Magical World for it to be made with such little notice. But as she listened and took part in the conversation that followed, she couldn't help but think that whatever changes would come would be for the best.

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The Great Hall was completely empty of all of its furnishings not two hours later in preparation for what was to come; the tables had been removed, along with the banners and tapestries. The Hogwarts Crest that was carved on the back wall of the Hall, behind where the Head Table was usually positioned was glowing in anticipation. The usually dull grey stones of the room seemed to glisten with a silver sheen and the air constantly rippled with suppressed energy.

In the center of the platform where the Head Table was usually located stood Alexander; his white hair untied and unbraided for once, falling is a silvery-white sheet down his back. His eyes were a stark green upon his pale face and his arms were crossed across his chest. If not for the magic flowing about and around him, anyone would assume that he was completely relaxed because of his posture.

His eyes, however, told a different story.

They were sharp and piercing, as if looking for something and observing that which normal eyesight could not see. However, when the doors of the Hall opened to admit the current Headmaster of Hogwarts, he straightened and waited until the old sorcerer reached his side.

"Is everything ready, Professor Dumbledore?" he asked.

The old man just nodded with a smile, his eyes twinkling "Of course, my boy. Mr. Filch and Hagrid have left for the week and the house elves are just waiting to be called."

"That's good then," he commented with a nod, still seeming to look around for something only he could see, "and there are no others in or around the Castle?"

"No, both Minerva and I have checked and double-checked. Neither Pomona nor Horace, which are the only staff members that usually spend time at Hogwarts during the summer holidays, are here. Only Minerva remains and she should be here shortly."

"Brilliant," he said, his green eyes coming to focus all at once and looking at the venerable Headmaster, who was even now looking around the swirling magic in the Great Hall with fascination, "thank you Headmaster," he said, inclining his head, before something occurred to him, "and are the Thestrals and other creatures in the paddocks?"

Dumbledore just turned to him and nodded, his eyes twinkling, "I also took the liberty to alert the Centaurs and the Merpeople as to what is about to take place so that they know what to expect."

Alex just blinked at that, nodding slowly as a small smile spread across his features. "I completely forgot about them," he admitted somewhat sheepishly, and thanked the Headmaster again, which the old man just waved off good-naturedly.

Just then, McGonagall stepped into the Hall, leaving the doors wide open and moved towards them at a brisk walk. The Headmaster stepped forward slightly when she reached them, taking the Sorting Hat from her hands and asking her if everything was ready.

McGonagall just answered with a tight nod, obviously slightly nervous, since she could probably feel the magic around her, but not completely see it. "Yes, Albus, Mr. Everard, everything is ready; the Floo has been shut down, the owls have been secured and a letter to the staff members sent, telling them that the school would be closed for the week and that a meeting has been set up after that."

"Marvelous Minerva, now, let us move into position" the Headmaster said, directing McGonagall toward the right of the platform where they stood and a bit out of the way, so that Alexander stood in the center, with his back to the Hogwarts Crest and his sights on the Great doors of the Hall. "Everything is ready, my boy," where the only words he said before clasping his hands and looking at the young wizard.

Alex just nodded, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, his wand in hand. Slowly, the Gryffindor ring surfaced and began to shine, brighter and brighter. Beams of light caressed the floors and walls of the Hall, even though the afternoon sun shined through the enchanted ceiling. Taking another breath to steady himself Alexander raised the hand upon which the Gryffindor ring was perched and snapped his fingers, his wand still held lightly in the same palm.

As one the over one hundred house elves of Hogwarts popped in, their luminous eyes staring right at him. He smiled at them and snapped his fingers once again, making the Hogwarts Crest behind him and those stitched on the tea cozies that the Elves wore to start glowing softly, at which time all the Elves bowed low, staying silent.

Finally he spoke, his voice soft, "You are bound to Hogwarts and have, until this day, been honor-bound to serve the Headmaster of this school as if he were your own master. Yet this castle and its grounds have now received a new master, one who holds Lordship over these lands, and thus your bond with Hogwarts has changed and been strengthened under my name, Alexander Prius Everard, Heir of Gryffindor and Lord of Hogwarts." He almost choked on those last words, since they sounded so pompous, but the Elves needed to recognize him for who he was and what place he held within the Castle they served. "Stand straight, those who have any objections to this bond," he commanded and noted that none of the more then one hundred elves lifted themselves from their low bow.

When the glow on the School Crests flashed once and faded, he snapped his fingers once more, solidifying the bond that the Elves held with him and the Castle, "Then stand straight and proud, Elves of Hogwarts, for you are part of this Castle and its family," he stated, and the Elves all stood straight and proud, the ears flopping about in excitement and their eyes glistening with tears. "Now, my friends, I ask for your assistance in cleansing Hogwarts while she awakens. Please, stand to my left and await further instructions," and as the excited Elves started whispering and a chorus of 'yes, sir's, Master Everard, sir,' echoed across the Hall, he turned toward the Headmaster and gave the old man a smile, "are you ready Headmaster?"

Dumbledore just pulled out his wand, practically rocking on his feet with excitement, "of course, dear child, of course," he answered.

"Very well," he said and raised his own wand high into the air, trusting Dumbledore to protect both himself and McGonagall during what was to come. Still, he had not gone in too great a detail about what was going to happen, so he decided to answer that questions now, "Professor McGonagall, have you ever wondered what the School motto means?"

He saw her purse her lips at the question, but he remained still as the tip is his wand started to pulsate with a silvery glow which seamed to grow brighter and brighter, as if it were following the rhythm of a beating heart.

"Of course, Mr. Everard," she answered before reciting the school motto while Dumbledore's eyes just twinkled at the question, "_Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_ means _Never tickle a sleeping dragon_."

"Yes, of course, Professor McGonagall," he answered as the white stone of the Gryffindor ring started pulsing in tandem with the tip of his wand, "but do you know why that is the motto of Hogwarts?" he asked, seeing as Dumbledore started whipping and waving his wand around himself and McGonagall, which the Transfiguration teacher seemed unaware of as she thought about his question.

"I cannot say that I do, Mr. Everard," she answered somewhat stiffly as she had just noticed the shield that was starting to encompass her and the Headmaster.

"Well, Professor, I would say that you are about to find part of the answer to that question very shortly," he answered just as the glow of the walls of the Great Hall began to pulse in time with both his ring and his wand. His whole body seemed to hum with energy and he noticed that the Elves were almost bouncing in place.

A sound seemed to surround them, like the scraping and scratching sound of stone. It reverberated all across the Great Hall. The trembling of the stone floors followed and it looked as if they were quivering in their place on the walls and floors even as the light of his wand increased with every second.

And then, when everything reached a crescendo and the light could get no brighter and the sounds around them could get no louder, Alexander lowered his wand in a violent downward slash as a beam of silver light, like a whip extended from the tip of his wand and arched across the whole hall, covering it, for just a second, in blinding silvery light.

Silence followed and for a moment or two it seemed as of nothing had happened, but then, the floors began vibrating and the sound of air moving at a rapid speed began to be heard, soon fallowed by the sound of a sharp staggered inhaling of breath so loud that it seemed as if a giant were about to sneeze right beside his ears.

Thunderous almost deafening sounds soon overwhelmed them as the castle actually sneezed! Doors could be heard being slammed shut; windows began rattling and stones could be heard moving as the very ground and foundations of the castle moved and shook. Magic gathered and spread across the entire castle and the stairs stopped moving for the first time in centuries; doors disappeared from walls and every one of the entrances and exits of Hogwarts were locked, melting into the walls as the stones of the walls, floors and halls seemed to ripple and shudder. A gust of wind soon traveled from the lowest of level of the castle and through every corner of its walls, as if it were heaving a huge yawn after a lengthy nap.

Not a second later, every torch and source of light within the Castle went out; leaving its few inhabitants in complete and utter darkness, for even the windows seemed opaque and unwilling to allow sunlight to enter.

It was on that day, 1st of August of 1977 that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft ad Wizardry awoke completely for the first time in eight hundred thirty four years.

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_**To be continued…**_


	5. Renewed Protections

_**Disclaimer:**_ Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series are the property of J.K. Rowling, and various publishers: including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by the writing of this story.

_**A/N:**_ It's been a long wait for this story to be updated, hasn't it? Well, I'll make no promises this time, but I can tell you all that my writing rhythm seems to be settling in a bit; hopefully nothing will come up that will interrupt it and I will be able to update more often, so cross your fingers, eh? After all, no one wants to keep this story flowing more than I. So go and read, and leave a review if you can, will you?

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Chapter Five  
**Renewed Protections**

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Complete darkness encased them, even as the cacophonous sounds of the stones grinding against each other as they moved resonated throughout the castle. Moving walls of stone, rooms and whole towers found their ways toward their original place; some hallways changed and some narrowed while other widened, making it so that the most important rooms of the Castle were more easily accessible. Trick steps vanished, stubborn doors lost their enchantments and secret passages were remade, even as old ones resurfaced. Shortcuts to and from the Infirmary opened and balconies sprouted all around the castle, even as the courtyards and recreational spaced throughout the grounds expanded exponentially. 

For while danger lurked yet in the outside world, Hogwarts need not keep its wartime readiness, something that took weeks to make happen in earlier times; A configuration that the School had taken centuries before for so many years that it was forgotten that the Castle could ever be changed.

After 1,000 years and countless teachers, students and headmasters; after many more battles and wars, Hogwarts reset itself to what it was when it was first built. Its protections and enchantments now stronger than ever, even as all the layered enchantments that were placed in and around the castle remained until they could be either fully integrated or completely removed.

The rattle of the suits of armor as they walked to new positions, marching to the ever present sound of a howling wind that in turn made windows rattle while the paintings chattered was jarring, to say the least. But then, after centuries of displaced and overlapping enchantments, it was only right that the school make such a racket while it put itself together. Still, if nothing else, Alexander was surprised by the time it was taking Hogwarts to settle down completely. She was truly fragmented, her magic spread thin, misused or untapped for it to take so long. However, he was not worried, for he knew that the magic of the school would take whatever time it needed to set itself to rights.

It was just a matter of patience, something that he had gained in great quantities and through much difficulty during the past year.

Finally, after some fifteen more minutes, the sounds stopped and light flickered to life once more within the Great Hall, its torches brighter then they had been before, the spells at work on the ceiling stronger then they had been for centuries, for the structure that held the ceiling in place was no longer visible through what remained of the enchantment after so many years; for all intents and purposes, it looked as if there were no ceiling at all. Alex was sure that the rest of the castle was still plunged in darkness, however, since he would have to go through every inch of the place to approve or disapprove the enchantments that had been placed after it was built.

After a moment, he noticed that the elves were looking around in wonder, as if they could feel and see something that others could not. Dumbledore and McGonagall, on the other hand, were looking at him expectantly. He just smiled softly and waited, and he knew that it would not be a long wait at that.

Soon, however, the silence was broken by a faint noise. Faint, but still echoing in the stillness of the castle, for not even the portraits were speaking, confined within their original frames as they now were. A tapping and clicking sound was heard approaching the Great Hall and Alexander's smile turned lopsided as the doors of the Hall opened without a sound, an unusual thing, since they usually groaned loudly when moved.

The look of surprise in Minerva McGonagall's face was priceless, though, and Dumbledore's was not far behind, although the old man recovered pretty quickly. For tip-tapping her way through, claws clicking in the stone floors, was a small obsidian dragon; she was long and thin with an even longer tail and no visible wings. No higher than a foot and a half at the shoulders, she was expertly carved with diamonds for eyes and runes for scales. She was the essence of the school and should anyone look at the runes that covered his left flank from the right distance and at the right angle, they would have been surprised to see the shape of this very dragon etched across his own skin.

"This, Professor McGonagall, is Hogwarts," he presented as the small obsidian statuette came to sit before him, and as the small enchanted creature moved its long neck and lifted its head to meet his eyes, he could clearly see a white crest, exactly like the one he bore on his left hand on the dragonet's own forehead. "Now, if you please, Headmaster Dumbledore, could you step behind Lillian and in front of me so that we might make the transition of the Castle's Magic go as smoothly as possible?"

"Certainly, my boy," he said, distracted, as he curiously examined the small dragon before turning inquisitive blue eyes towards him, ready to follow his instructions. After all, the Magic's that Dumbledore controlled weren't exactly that important in the great scheme of things; they allowed the Headmaster to know the state of the protections in and around the Castle and its Grounds, along with giving him a small warning if anything was amiss. However, they also allowed the Headmaster to recharge the original wards when needed and place new protections as well, as long as these new enchantments didn't interfere with the Schools main directives, though they could not be integrated within the original matrix of Hogwarts without the approval of an Heir of Gryffindor.

However, while a Headmaster could not control the main enchantments of Hogwarts, they did have free reign over those protections that had been placed by previous Headmasters and Headmistresses. These were the Magic's that Alexander needed Dumbledore to relinquish control of and onto him, since it would allow him to revise them and remove or add to them as needed without having to start from scratch.

Had the Headmaster not done this and this whole process still enacted, Hogwarts would have completely absorbed the magic of all of these extra enchantments, and though that would have made its own base defenses formidable, they would have been outdated defenses at that, which made him glad to have Dumbledore's willing assistance.

Lillian, a nickname given to the statuette by Gryffindor, seeing as Hogwarts itself was named after a type of Lily that Ravenclaw had favored, was made by all four founders and the help from half a dozen more professional wizards and witches of the age. However, no one but those that created her knew of her existence and were sworn to keep its secrecy, seeing that every Headmaster and Headmistress since Gryffindor himself never saw anything but a small square room filled to the brim with runic tablets where the schematics of each ward and enchantment were placed, and where new enchantments could be sketched into new tablets before being cast and anchored to it; the Wards' Hall. No one knew that beyond one of the walls, the core of Hogwarts laid, encased in stone; a sentient, intelligent presence that was created with the same types of enchantments that made the Sorting Hat, but with wholly different directives; to protect the Castle, its Students and to manage its Magic.

Taking out his wand, Alexander gently tapped it against the crest on the stone dragonet's forehead before tapping the duplicate of the crest that rested on his left hand. Immediately, he felt a link forming, made more powerful by the future essence of Hogwarts that resided within him.

Nodding at the Headmaster to show his readiness, he watched as the old sorcerer pulled out his own wand and with a flourish of movement and muttered words began to transfer control of the Castle's magic over to him. He felt it, more than saw it, as his awareness slowly expanded to include these newer protections, sorting them and marking inconsistencies within them as he found them before moving on.

The process would usually take but a few minutes, maybe less, but Alex needed it to be done slowly so that Hogwarts could catalog all of the protections and he could compare them to the base protections that already existed.

If nothing else, some things were of more importance than others; The Chamber of Secrets amongst them. Its entryways were marked by at least five small but permanent enchantments placed throughout the castle and close to the pipes, which allowed entrances to be established in any of these indicators easily enough. These small enchantments were almost impossible to find, if one were not looking for them, since they were hiding beneath other more ordinary charms, like water heating and the like. Since Alex knew of where the current entrance was located, it was only a matter of feeling for the same type of enchantments to find the other markers that would allow these old entrances to be opened. It would just be a matter of changing these markers and maybe relocating them to more strategic places for new entrances to be made. The enchantments of the Chamber itself would have to be checked out and updated before the whole place could be added into Hogwarts proper.

He knew that this would be his biggest challenge this week, but couldn't help but feel excited by the prospect.

On the other hand, once he controlled all of the Magic of Hogwarts, the curse that Voldemort placed on the Defense position would be all the more easily found, among many others that he was sure still lingered. But those would have to wait a few days, since there were more pressing matters to attend to, not to mention certain preparations that would need to be made before the other Professors arrived.

He would start at the gates and woke his way around the Grounds, checking for the other two secret passages that led out of the grounds and towards the Forbidden Forrest and the Mountains, respectively. After that, he would need check and secure the other passages that led into and out of the castle, and only then would he worry about everything else. He was also certain that he would need to check out Dumbledore's and McGonagall's office and living quarters to see that everything was in order before tackling the rest of the schools enchantments.

Opening his eyes as he felt the last of the Castle Magic's settle, he nodded at the Headmaster before centering himself and taking a deep, steadying breath. Controlling so many enchantments was slightly disconcerting at first, and draining on the long run, which was why Lillian was made; if she controlled the enchantments, it meant less strain on everyone else, for more than one person would be needed to control the massive array of magic that made Hogwarts what it was, and then, it would be an exhausting endeavor to those charged with the task.

"Are you alright, my boy?" Dumbledore asked in concern, snapping him out of his musings. After all, there were other things to do and the house elves were getting jittery from standing around with nothing to do for so much time.

"Yes, Headmaster, I'm fine. Just slightly lightheaded, but that's to be expected," he answered before slowly sitting on the floor to inspect Lillian, who nuzzled his hand and allowed him to look her over. "Please, have a seat while I regain my bearings."

"Certainly." With a wave of his wand, two plush armchairs were conjured along with a table and three steaming cups of tea. McGonagall promptly made her way towards them and took one of them after making sure that he was truly fine.

A moment or two later, he was at least recovered enough to send the Elves to clean all of the hallways, but not the rooms. He instructed them to clean the outside walls and windows and to make sure that nothing dangerous was exposed; if so, they were ordered to secure it until he had a chance to deal with it. Tanny was sent to his own rooms to check on his things, while the two professors called two of their own favorite elves to do the same. After a minute or two, all the Elves sorted themselves out and left, leaving the three of them alone to the sound of Lillian's tail scrapping across the floor as she sat down on her hind legs and twirled it around herself, looking as if she were settling down.

"She is remarkable," Dumbledore breathed as she watched the statuettes every movement, "You said that her name was Lillian, Alex?" he asked.

"Yeah," he nodded, taking a cup of tea from McGonagall, "Thank you, Professor. Peculiar, isn't it? Gryffindor gave her that name, seeing that Hogwarts was named after a type of lily."

"Amazing," the transfiguration teacher joined in. "I wonder, however, what plans you have for the remainder of the day, Mr. Everard."

"Well, now that the castle is out of its defensive configuration, Lillian will start doing a check on each of her main enchantments and then the most important wards needed for the defenses of the castle. I will recharge the enchantments as needed and protect her avatar," he said, gesturing to the small obsidian dragonet, "while it is doing that, and that will last a least until lunch. I will have Tanny bring me the financial information of the school from my trunk and start going over it to see how this year's budget can be distributed."

Truly, the next couple of weeks would be arduous to say the least. After he was done with the castle, the staff would arrive and he would have a few days to prepare before he had to take his O.W.L.'s, and then the Seventh Year equivalency exams. And that wasn't even mentioning anything to do with Voldemort, since he was sure that Dumbledore would want his help in the Order in some way, shape or form.

Looking at the Headmaster and his Deputy, he suggested, "Actually, why don't you both do the same? At the moment, it would be much safer to stay in the Great Hall, and I'm sure that you both have enough paperwork to do as well. That way you can avoid getting lost until I can show you around the School and make sure that your offices and rooms are secure."

Assenting to this course of action, Alexander quickly conjured himself a desk and chair after he called for Tanny to get his paperwork, as Dumbledore and McGonagall did the same.

What followed was a deep discussion about the School; its financial state, its budget, enchantments and protections, its classes and students, and what was needed for the new school year. McGonagall immediately set off to find a new, qualified Caretaker and a History of Magic teacher, writing and advert to be published in next weeks Daily Prophet, while Dumbledore worked on how to better distribute the administrative, scholastic and disciplinary duties that before fell into the jurisdiction of the Board of Governors. Letters to the new and old Prefects, along with these years Head Boy and Girl were also drafted, so that they would have at least some notion on what to expect; it was debated if Alexander would need to attend the prefect meeting as well, to answer any questions.

A problem quickly arose, though, with McGonagall not having enough time to fulfill her duties, seeing that she had a full week classes, a responsibility to Gryffindor House and her duty as Deputy as well. It was quickly solved, however, when Alex suggested that he could take some of her lower lever classes in the mornings after breakfast to give her some time, since he could take and pass his Transfiguration N.E.W.T. as well this summer if it was needed.

When asked how he planned to do that by the Head of Gryffindor, he answered her quite frankly, "I really do not need to take any classes, Professor. I could take all of the N.E.W.T.'s and pass them now, but the Headmaster and I agreed that being a student would not only allow me to familiarize myself with the school, its students and how it worked, but also permit me some time before the Dark Lord pinpointed my identity. The last place that he would look for Heir of Gryffindor, after all, would be within the student body itself."

True, such a maneuver wouldn't last long, but it would buy them at least until Christmas, when any student in league with Voldemort would help their parents piece together his identity and thus report it to Tom. It was a risk, to be sure, but it would hopefully give them enough time to prepare and gather the Horcruxes before the evil man noticed.

When she was satisfied with his answer, and his credentials, they quickly decided that Alex could take First Year Transfiguration, which was the whole of Tuesday morning, all four periods with a double class first of Gryffindor's and Slytherin's, and then of Hufflepuff's and Ravenclaw's. Then the third and forth periods of Friday morning, before lunch, for their single class; he would get a copy of her syllabus before classes started and they all hoped that the time allowed would permit the Head of Gryffindor to cope with her new workload. Six hours of his time wasn't that much of a sacrifice to him anyways.

As it was, since he was only taking D.A.D.A's, Charms, Herbology and Potions, he would only be taking classes in the afternoons and even then, he had the first period after lunch completely free throughout the week, so he wasn't strained at all himself.

They discussed the possibility of establishing a Dulling Club for Saturdays in the afternoon, and left the idea open to see if the new Defense professor was willing to take such a project on, while still leaving the Headmaster and Alexander as possible supervisors for it should the new professor decline. Other clubs and programs were soon reevaluated and discussed; from how-to seminars on harvesting potion ingredients, to introduction and presentation of different career choices by witches and wizards who were leading experts within each field.

The ideas were coming fast and quickly, and before they knew it, they were headed towards lunch, still discussing some of the changes that they all wanted to see in Hogwarts as a whole. Luckily, the elves had reappointed the kitchens and the food was promptly serves and once more delicious, even as discussion shifted from the educational to the administrative, which would have soured any seventeen year olds appetite.

But as he watched the discussion develop between the Headmaster and his Deputy, Alexander shook his head, not knowing until that day the intricacies and complication in the everyday of running a Boarding School like Hogwarts, and astounded at all of the details that needed to be taken into account.

It was more than a learning experience, to be sure.

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After lunch and a quick check of the main corridors as well as a visit to the Headmaster's office and rooms, McGonagall's study and suits, and the kitchens, just to make sure, Alexander made his way outside, Lillian faithfully following as he started the process of evaluating and integrating those enchantments and protections that previous Headmasters and Headmistresses had placed around the boundary of the school and its lands.

A very long process, indeed.

And as his inspection finished in the afternoon, he had also found many other charms and curses within and around the grounds as well, probably from students either practicing their magic or simply setting up traps of pranks. He had to shake his head at a particular patch of ground that would strip anyone who stepped on it from their undergarments, banishing them toward the branches of any of a dozen trees. All of these were quickly and systematically dismantled or removed, and their magic absorbed by Lillian.

The other two secret passages, one located behind an outcropping of rocks on the western side of Hogwarts, opposite the Whomping Willow, that led into the hillsides and mountains at the end of Hogsmeade; the second located near the rocky docks of the lake and leading deep into the Forbidden Forrest and its outer edges. These passages were sealed and password protected for the moment, even as Alex placed detection charms all through the tunnels while securing their exits and adding them within Hogwarts field of magical protection.

With different passwords at both entrance and exits, and with Hogwarts now aware of the happenings in each tunnel, it would be easier to avoid any unwanted use of the tunnels. He also had to weave many other enchantments to make the passageways more comfortable, and with the help of a few House Elves, more roomy as well.

Leaving the Shrieking Shack itself for later, once he ascertained if the lands it stood upon were part of Hogwarts or not, he just did the same as the other tunnels and sealed the entrance and exit with new passwords, and not just the Willow for protection.

However, with the casting of these new enchantments he also needed to acquire a few blank obsidian tablets from the Wards Hall. Using his wand, he was able to write the new runic schematics of these spells into the tablets, which were thankfully simple, to ground them and ensure their permanence before charging the tablets with his magic and storing them in a bag that he had Tanny bring to him from his rooms, which he had checked on earlier.

Structural charms, air ventilation enchantments, protections, wards and traps went into these tunnels. The traps only activated when Hogwarts deemed them necessary or when she was placed into its defensive form. What no one seemed to remember was that the moving rooms, stairs and hallways, along with the many trick steps, doors and paintings, were originally a part of the defenses of the School, made to make it almost impossible to those who gained access to the castle to find what they were looking for. It also made dealing with intruders that much more easily.

But these security measures quickly lost their effectiveness, seeing that when activated fulltime it was a matter of memorizing their locations, not to mention that the more lethal countermeasures and enchantments had been either remover or not charged again after the had run out of power. The chambers for the guardian beasts that the Founders had made had also been emptied as well, something that Alexander wanted to remedy with time.

True, maybe keeping Manticores and Griffins within the Castle was dangerous for the students, especially those who were a bit too curious to be safe, but maybe guardians enchanted similarly as Lillian, but for physical protection would be best.

It was something that was worth considering at least.

When he was finished with the grounds it was already time for dinner, so he made his way toward the Great Hall directly, bag of obsidian tablets swung over his shoulder and Lillian clicking beside him. He found the other two wizards inhabiting the castle already there, chatting and pouring over more paperwork, "Good evening professors."

"Good evening, Mr. Everard," McGonagall answered him first, raising her eyebrows at his filthy state, a result from crouching and wondering inside of equally dirty tunnels, he was sure. Taking out his wand, he quickly cleaned up with a few spells, though he would have preferred a shower if not for his tiredness and the growling of his stomach.

"Good evening, me boy," Dumbledore greeted as well, "how did your survey of the outer enchantments go?" he asked, and Alex knew that the old man was extremely interested, seeing that the workings of the magic's of Hogwarts have always remained a mystery.

Putting his tablets down by the small obsidian Dragonet, he took a seat with a sigh, grateful for the glass of pumpkin juice that McGonagall served him, "Well, I can say that the Grounds are completely secure and I only need to finish integrating what new enchantments I placed with those already in existence with Lillian here. The perimeter charms and protections were severely weakened, but those were easily fixed. There were also a great many new spells placed around the outer walls that I decided to combine within the matrix of Hogwarts; including repelling, strengthening and intention based enchantments. If you would like, Headmaster, Professor, you could come with me and see them as they are integrated into Lillian."

"Certainly, my boy, I would be honored," Dumbledore turned toward his Deputy, his eyes twinkling brightly in intellectual enthusiasm, "What say you, Professor McGonagall?"

"Of course, Headmaster," she nodded, shuffling some papers that she had been working on and stacking them neatly beside her; probably more letters and documents needed for the new school year.

Dinner was served and light discussion flowed between them, with Dumbledore expressing his relief that the Wizengamot had not convened in the last few days, though he would be away for the rest of the day tomorrow for some business or other.

Now that Alex was completely settled, he had some things to catch up with, which he was sure the Order of the Phoenix was a part of, but he didn't broach the subject of the war in any way; Voldemort was still lying somewhat low at the moment, since his tactics didn't start worsening until he had control of the dementors at the end of this summer, something that he reminded himself that he would have to take care of as well.

When pudding was served, the conversation turned toward Lillian once more, as the Professors asked questions about her and the spells that made her possible, some of which were unheard of, since they were made specifically for the School and its protections and never publicized; the fact that they were prepared and cast by ten different wizards made it so that no one had the whole set of enchantments that made the defenses of Hogwarts possible.

Still, as they made their way toward the Headmasters office and the Wards Hall, McGonagall began to ask about the differences in the castle itself, which she had observed from her office and her walk to the Great Hall, and he promised her a tour of it after he was done taking care of the schools magic. "Now, I must warn you to stay close to the walls of the room," he explained as they climbed through the hidden staircase by the telescope, "and away from the middle circle. I will need your help, if you would give it, with the warding tablets," he nodded at the walls when they entered the room, which were filled with slots or the poking ends of thin, but glowing stone tablets.

The room itself was not that big; only some twenty feet square. A circle of runes was carved into the stone floor, marking the geographical center of Hogwarts and its Grounds, and upon the square walls, hundreds of runic tables were inserted. He knew from what Lillian had showed him that some of those tablets were only a foot or so long, while others, with more complicated spells and enchantments could be many feet in length. Still, only the top edge of each tablet was poking out of their horizontal slot in the walls, making them seem as if they were all equal in size.

Setting his bag on the floor and taking the two dozen tablets within it, he placed them carefully in the floor and closed the door when Lillian had finally entered, watching as it melted within the stones. "Now, Professor McGonagall, if you could stand on the western side of the room, and Headmaster, if you could stand in the eastern side," he adirected them as he walked outside of the circle with Lillian until he was in the northern wall. He smiled at how attentive the two professors were, knowing that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, "I will start and show you what will happen and you can help me move the tablets as needed after that, alright?"

Getting their firm nods as answer, he looked down at the obsidian dragon and nodded at her, "It is time, Lillian, whenever you are ready."

Slowly, the statuette stepped within the runic ring and turned around to face him, her tail becoming still. Her claws sunk into predetermined holes within the floor and she seemed to tense before the runes that made up the ring began to glow slightly, followed by the runs all along her body, casting shadows across the floor. It took a few moments, but certain tablets began to glow as well; those that Alex had partially integrated into the magical matrix of the school. The majority of the tablets remained the same, however, since he had only finished with the outer grounds and enchantments.

When the dragonets mouth opened slightly and Alexander saw a few streams of white-looking fire licking at the statuettes obsidian fangs and the diamond eyes closed, he knew everything was ready. Dumbledore and McGonagall were looking around in astonishment as all of this happened, but their attention was soon focused on him as he took out his wand and nodded at them to do the same. When all three of them were ready, he prepared himself and looked at McGonagall, "Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes Mr. Everard?"

"Do you remember what I said about the schools motto? That you would understand part of what it meant this morning? Well, here is the rest of the answer," and with that comment and a quirky smile, he shot a ticking charm at the small dragon and watched as all hell broke loose.

_Literally_.

White flames poured out of Lillian's mouth, streaming in curves and swirls of magic within the circle. Even with the protective runes on the floor, they could already feel the heat emanating from within. The amounts of magic pouring into and around the room were almost stifling, but the cool feel of the protections within the room soon washed around them, negating the heats effect.

The white flames soon stabilized and now seemed to be dancing in lazy knots and loops, constant and ever moving. Nodding, he levitated one of the thin obsidian tablets with his wand and called towards Dumbledore and McGonagall, who were watching the spectacle in awe.

"Now, Professors, do you see all of those tablets that are glowing? Please verify that they are completely charged before doing this," he explained, as he levitated one of his small, already charged tablets within the circle and into the loops of white flame, where it remained hovering once he canceled the charm. "If you could charge those that need it, I would be grateful, if not, put them beside me and I will charge them before levitating them in."

Illuminated by the flickering light of the magical flame, they set to work, revising the runic diagrams within the tablets and charging those that needed to be charged before levitating them within the circuit of flames, where each individual rune started to glow, as if it was being read before the tablet melted and started swirling within the flames itself, liquefied by the heat.

At one point, they had to pause when McGonagall discovered the tablet with the enchantments for the ceiling of the Great Hall in a seven foot long tablet. While charged now, Dumbledore had told them that it had not been before, and was one of the last tablets charged by any Headmaster, since it was a particularly draining enchantment and set within the 'decorative' section of the Hall. Everyone had always assumed that that particular enchantment had been a part of the original magic of the castle, and since the tablets couldn't be removed without Lillian's permission once they were inserted, no one had been able to tell which enchantment was which, only their priority.

When all of the tablets were charged and melted, the white flames began to move faster before they started looping around the small obsidian statuette and compressing slightly. First it looked like a swirling mass of obsidian and flame with no actual shape, even as it continued condensing ever more. Slowly, however, it began to take the shape of Lillian, but bigger, taller. It looked as if the mass of obsidian had created a new layer around the small statue, but when given a closer look, Alexander saw some of the original arrays of runes glowing beside some of the newer ones they had integrated that day.

After producing so much fire, the original statue must have melted as well, before uniting with the new enchantments. She was truly integrated them all, both magically and physically.

When the protective spells ended and the runic circle turned off, Lillian opened her diamond eyes, steam still rising around her, and bowed, glad to be more in control of the magic around her, even as her claws came out of its now wider holes, steam and the smell of brimstone in the air; The runes across her body still glowing slightly. And that's when he noticed, analyzing the statuette through his link with it.

Hogwarts was stronger than ever before, her outside protections impenetrable.

But then, these were enchantments that had accumulated for centuries. He had to wonder though, just how powerful would she get when all of the magic within her was finally united and under her full command? As he felt deeper along the link, he could only shake his head in amazement when he came up with an answer.

For Hogwarts would truly gain full sentience and cognizance of herself. A truly remarkable thing, in light of the state of her existing semi-sentient state; it meant the difference between following directives blindly and becoming capable of subjective thinking and thus questioning when those same directives could be harmful to those within her walls by clashing.

More importantly, she would recognize Voldemort as a threat, even though her regard of those from her Founder's bloodline came even before the safety of the school itself; a mistake made by the Founders when she was made. And though Alexander knew that he would have to help her re-write these directives and show her right from wrong, by the same directives that governed her now she would come to one and only one conclusion:

Tom Marvolo Riddle would not be allowed to set foot in Hogwarts, for he was a danger to her students and her halls.

-  
- o -  
-

It would take the best part of the next four days, working within the castle, to revise almost all of the Schools enchantments. Each day he would go and completely integrate them with Lillian, making her grow more and more, until she was almost three feet in height at the shoulders.

He had found underground gardens used for the study of plants near the greenhouses, and another such aquatic garden close to the dock as well, for water-based plants. They had both been in disrepair and had required four teams of three elves each to clean completely, but they were now ready for Professor Sprout's use. A music room and small auditorium were also uncovered, hidden as it was within the walls of the school.

Extra classrooms were reopened within their respective corridors, providing the professors with more appropriate rooms for their different classes. From bigger and wider rooms for major transfigurations, to a more specified classroom for explaining the many diagrams of the subject. Equally, potions now had a room prepared for the teaching of ingredient management and preparation, not to mention a few experimentation labs for older students; settled in a circular room with glass walls that allowed the professor to supervise his students from its center.

The Charms corridor gained three more specialized classrooms, while the Defense hallway sprouted a dozen doors for its use; from dueling chambers, to dark creature habitats for their study. At the same time, all classrooms were now easily accessible, along with the Infirmary, the Great Hall and the internal courtyards. While the different common rooms become more difficult to find, especially for the other houses.

All in all, Hogwarts was completely different from what it once was, and now truly resembled a school and not a living fortress. And while the stairs didn't move and the classrooms didn't change position, it was still a very magical place.

Now only a few places were left for Alexander to examine, the Room of requirement chief amongst them, and while Lillian was now the size of a Great Dane, her movements were more lifelike and fluid than they were before, and her appearance was much more real as well, right down to the wings folded against her slim flame, where Alex knew that many of the 'decorative' enchantments and their runes were etched. It amazed him to no end that she had evolved as much as she had in such short time span, but he understood that her core enchantments allowed just that.

She was but a few steps away from fully attaining sentience; it was only a matter of a bit of time and the inclusion of some very secluded tunnels below the castle itself.

So with a score of House Elves following him, the obsidian dragon beside him, and a bag full of supplies and potions that he had purchased just for this occasion, he entered the second floor lavatory and hissed the necessary password before leaping forwards…

…Into the Chamber of Secrets.

It was an adventure, to be sure, and while the Room of Requirement also needed to be checked, and new traps and obstacles installed for the inner security of the Castle, along with many other such details, it was his hope that he could put Salazar's own chamber to better use; for he was certain that while there was no time to train a Griffin or subdue a Manticore for the schools protection, he could certainly try to talk and bribe Salazar's Basilisk into filling that role.

And if not, well, he could always kill the creature and sell its parts to augment the schools budget for the refurbishment of all those new rooms that have popped up recently, old and outdated as they were.

* * *

_**To be continued…**_


End file.
